Begin Again Again
by pattyrose
Summary: Bella's life philosophy has shifted in the past few years since she reconnected with Edward: Life gets real, and no, you can't start the same batch over...but you can ALWAYS begin again. She likes this one. She's pretty sure this one will stick. But in the face of yet another life-altering event, can she and Edward follow this philosophy, and readjust their lives all over again? M
1. Pre-Prologue & Prologue: Guy Talk & RBs

**A/N: Good morning! Thanks for joining me on a new adventure with Bakerella, the Spawn, and of course, Edward.**

 **We'll talk more at the end about a bit of an update schedule, some anecdotes, questions, answers, etc. But right now, let's get started.**

 **All negligible rights are reserved. Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. Pardon any and all mistakes, etc., etc. :)**

* * *

 **Pre-Prologue – Guy Talk**

 **FAO Schwarz – New York City, New York**

 **December 2002**

"Tony, no. Get over here," I hiss. "Don't you see the line? We've got to wait on that first."

The sternness in my tone makes my ten-year-old son stop in his tracks. Nevertheless, the foot he has poised in mid-air, all ready to slam down on the huge, white piano keys on the floor, remains at the ready. When he swivels around, impressively with that foot still in the air, his forehead is furrowed, green eyes narrowed in defiance.

"Come on, Dad! I've been waiting for this all day!" he gripes. "Besides, you said we had to head for the airport in a half hour, and look at that line! We'll never make it to the front on time!"

He waves an impatient hand toward the admittedly long-ass line of parents and children of varying ages, all waiting for their turn at the famed piano. The cacophony emanating from the line is made up of voices raised in conversation, in laughter, in screams, and in sobs – from parents and kids alike. The various elements of winterwear needed here on the East Coast in December seem to add to the agitation. They burst from everywhere like fireworks; they're worn or carried on arms or stuffed into shopping bags and strollers or just discarded on the floor. The entire atmosphere is in total contrast to the merriness usually associated with the season, as well as with the song on the loudspeakers, proclaiming that _'the choir of children sing their song.'_

I wouldn't call this scene akin to a choir of children – not by a long shot.

While I take in this less-than-festive sight, the glares shot our way, from both children and parents respectively, grow all the more sinister, and they're all accompanied by famed New York City scowls, which clearly spell out, ' _Don't you even fucking dare, asshole._ '

Because my son's foot is _still_ poised in mid-air.

I rake a hand through my hair and nervously shuffle Tony's coat from one arm to the other, smiling in the general direction of the crowd. My gesture isn't returned. This might get ugly.

"Tony, you see those kids who are already jumping on the piano?"

My son doesn't even turn around to acknowledge the sight of the two boys smacking out disjointed tunes with their sneakers, and the lone little girl tapping away much more gracefully with her dress shoes.

Instead, his frown grows deeper. Shit.

"Well, all those kids and their parents waited on line for their turn."

Tony appears unimpressed.

A vague thought flashes through my head along the lines that really, we've both been duped here. See, in that Tom Hanks movie, this toy store didn't appear anywhere near as crowded as we've found it. What's more, there sure as hell was no line of murderous parents and their screaming offspring.

When reasoning doesn't work to redirect Tony, I wave him over decisively. "All right, come on. Rules are rules."

My tone brooks no room for argument because you've got to teach them right from wrong from the very beginning. You've got to give them the principles, and hope that when it's time, they know how to apply them on their own.

As I head toward the back of the massive line, all the while knowing Tony is likely right, and we'll never make it to the front before it's time to leave, I take in a silent breath of relief when I hear _his_ sigh of surrender. Still, I feel like shit.

"Aw, man," he mutters, "I'll never get a turn. This trip to New York sucked."

Yep. Just like shit.

"Hey, little man."

Someone calls this out in an almost whisper; the voice only carries in the chaos because it's pretty deep. In the next fraction of a second, I perform an about-face, hands already fisted at my sides because when some stranger in a strange city calls to your kid in a low voice, your hackles instinctively rise.

"Why don't you go over there with my daughter? I'm sure she won't mind sharing her spot with you."

In my son's defense, he does set aside almost a handful of seconds to seek my input before running head-on toward the little girl to which the guy gestures, the one at the other end of the floor piano. Tony's body vibrates with hope.

"Can I, Dad?" he rushes out. "Please? Please?"

"Yeah, sure. But be careful. And don't jump on her toes!" I add although he's already sprinted off.

I watch him approach the tiny girl – an angelic little thing with blond pigtails, a red velvet dress, and black patent shoes. She's tapping her feet and giggling, so involved in her activity she doesn't note Tony's approach.

"Hey, is it okay if I share your piano space? Your dad said it was," he adds pointedly, in case she's got any plans to say ' _no_.'

When the little girl's head shoots up, she's got the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. The eyes seek out her dad, seeking permission in much the same way in which Tony hastily sought mine. When your kid looks at you like that, it fills you with both a sense of pride mingled with a reminder of the herculean responsibility on your shoulders. With Tony already ten-years-old, I find myself momentarily wondering how long that deference to my decisions will last.

The guy, who stands a few feet away and separated from the rest of the horde, nods and offers his daughter a reassuring smile.

"Share," I watch him mouth.

When the little girl smiles, her entire face lights up.

"Sure it's okay," she answers my son. "Come on!"

For a second, I'm startled. I'm not even sure why except...there was something about her smile…

"You two would've waited on that line for at least an hour; trust me. I just did."

The guy walks over to me, and I look over. He's tall; taller than me by a couple of inches, which isn't a usual encounter. He's got massive arms crossed over his chest, but not in one of those threatening or flaunting ways. He's using the space between to cradle a minuscule, red velvet coat. He's got the same color hair and eyes as his daughter, and when he offers me a friendly grin, I return it with a grateful one of my own.

"Thanks a lot, man. You just made my son's day."

He shrugs. "Don't worry about it. I know how it is. My wife tells me I should try to perform a good deed daily. Now, I can honestly tell her I've performed today's. Besides which, it would've broken her heart to see your son's sad, little face, and if she would've found out I did nothing to help, she would've kicked my ass."

I chuckle at that mental image because it would take some kind of woman to kick this guy's ass.

"Well, my ex-wife would've made us turn tail the second we walked in here had she seen that line, so I'd say yours has the better priorities."

"Ooh," he says, He jerks back his head and sucks in a sharp breath. "Guess that's why she's the ex-wife."

We share a chuckle at that one. Then, we return to keeping an eye on our respective kids. I'm relieved to see they're playing well together. The little girl delicately taps her pristine black shoes on the black keys, then she looks at Tony, and he slams his dirty, white Converse on the respective white key. Then, they both break into fits of laughter and repeat the sequence. Good. After this guy here did us such a favor, it would've sucked for our kids to hate one another. Plus, he's a pretty big guy; it could've gotten messy.

Though Tony's a good kid, so I can't say I'm surprised. His semi-tantrum a few minutes ago was out of character for him, but I understand it. He's ten, and it's his first trip to New York with me, and he's had a few, long days which have ended in a measure of disappointment for a kid his age.

"So you guys are from out of town?" the guys asks.

I guess the look I give him in reply expresses my surprise until he clarifies.

"I overheard your son say how this trip to New York sucked."

Again, I chuckle. "Oh yeah, that's right. Excuse his language; he doesn't usually speak that way, at least not in front of me, but…he's right; this trip did suck."

The guy laughs. "Yeah. New York during the holidays can get pretty hectic, especially with all the security in place since last year."

"Yeah, it's crazy times in this world." We're both quiet for a moment. "But what made it a disappointment for my son was the fact that this was mainly a business trip for me. We were only here for four days, and I was stuck in contract meetings for most of them, which cut into our tourist time."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah. My business partner came down with me, and he was a great help with my son, but the guy's not much for exploring. He mostly kept my son by the pool, and we already have a pool at home, so Tony wasn't impressed." I shrug my shoulders and turn up my palms in one of those ' _What are going to do?'_ gestures. "He'll be fine, though. He's getting older now. I'll bring him back next time, and we'll do some more sightseeing."

The guy nods slowly. "That's good, but I've got to agree with your son about this trip; it did suck for him."

Again, we both chuckle.

"So what do you do? You're a lawyer?"

"No, no." A somewhat wistful smile lifts up the corners of my mouth. "Though, that was the plan once, a long time ago. But life gets real."

"My wife says something similar," he snorts.

"Yeah." Again, I shrug. "It's all good. I'm in importing and exporting. My partner and I have a small start-up." I grin rather proudly now. "The business has lots of intricacies, and the ins and outs involved keep me running from one place to another and keep my mind busy."

"A busy mind and body are always good. I'm in marketing myself, so I know how important it is to keep that noggin' focused." He taps his temple in illustration.

"Marketing? Look at that; small world," I say, noting how our careers are somewhat related.

"Where do you guys live?"

"In Southern California."

"SoCal." He nods appreciatively. "Good weather almost every day up there, I hear."

"You hear right," I grin. "But you know, around this time of year, you wouldn't mind some snow just to add to the theme."

"Yeah; my wife says the same thing. She loves snow around the holidays. It's one of the reasons she says she'll never leave the East Coast – well that, and she hates airplanes." He grins, but he suddenly looks like he regrets sharing that bit, so I leave it alone. "My dad, on the other hand," he continues, "hates California because of Hollywood."

"Because of Hollywood?" I echo with a snort.

"Yeah. He says the constantly warm weather up there contributes to the spoiled attitudes of those in Tinsel Town. _'Son, you know why our family's genes are so strong?_ '" The guy drops his already deep voice even lower. " _'Because we were bred in cold weather! You need cold weather to keep those genes strong! Don't ever leave the northeast, son, because that's when you'll turn into one of those spoiled Mama's boys!'"_

We both howl with laughter. It takes us a couple of minutes to tamp down on our amusement.

"Yeah, my dad's a trip, and his advice can be a bit questionable," he says.

"Believe me, it can't be any worse than my dad's advice. The things he used to advise me…man, they were doozies. And the worst part is I used to follow that advice too." Pursing my lips, I shake my head, crossing my arms against my chest as well.

And then, she's there.

In my head.

But I shake her off. I'm in the middle of a crowded-as-hell toy store in New York City in the middle of the holiday season, keeping an eye on my son to make sure he doesn't get himself kidnapped or in trouble while holding a conversation with a guy who's doing the same. I can't think of her now. It's an indulgence I'll leave for later. Maybe for the flight home.

"Yeah, well, what are you going to do?" the guy says. "They give us shitty advice sometimes, thinking they know better, and we take it because we believe they know better. Then when we fuck up – pardon my language – we blame them and never follow their advice again. Then we fuck up because we don't follow advice. And then, we have our own kids, and we repeat the shitty cycle all over again.

I'm laughing throughout his entire philosophy. "Yeah, that's exactly how it happens, isn't it? It's a shame though when you're old enough to make a mistake that really costs you. And really, who can you blame but yourself at that point?"

The thought sobers me for a bit. I gesture toward Tony with my jaw, where he and the little girl are now jumping up and down simultaneously on every single key in their vicinity and giggling away, having a grand old time.

"That's why I try to raise my son with principles rather than too much advice. Advice is subjective, while principles are constant. As long as he's got good principles, I hope someday they'll guide him toward good decision-making; at least, toward decisions he can live with without regret."

The guy stares at me for a few seconds. Behind him, and in my periphery, I see a petite woman approaching with determined steps.

"Excuse me, mind if I like, ask you both a question?"

A red-head in about her mid-twenties stands before us. She's holding a red-headed toddler by the hand, while the kid screams at the top of his lungs and tries to yank himself out of his mother's grip. Nevertheless, the woman grins widely at us, biting her bottom lip in a way that makes it obvious what her line of questioning will be.

"I realize this is like, forward of me? But like…are either of you single? Or even better, are you both single?" she adds. "Cuz my friends and I, we're like, on line over there for the piano thing? And we all agreed you two have to be like, the finest guys we've ever seen." She giggles – in much the same manner in which my son and the guy's little girl just giggled.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, we're not single."

"Oh." Her face falls. Nevertheless, she turns her gaze to the guy, her expression hopeful for a different reply from him – never mind the fact that the guy's wedding band is on clear display with the way he's got his arms folded.

The guy shakes his head, wiggling his wedding ring high. "You heard my friend. We're taken."

Her shoulders droop in defeat. "Oh, well. Can't blame a girl for trying. Man, your wives are lucky."

She bites her lip again and expels a really salacious sound under her breath. Her eyes openly rake us from head to toe, her gaze shifting from my feet to the guy's feet, and back to mine.

" _Really_ damn lucky." With a lascivious grin, she heads back to the line, dragging the screaming toddler behind her.

The guy's gaze meets mine, both of us wide-eyed, though I get the feeling he gets this as often as I do. My respect for this stranger grows at how swiftly he opted out of that whole situation. Cheating doesn't sit well with me ever since I…

No. No, I'm not going there. Not now. Not in the middle of this busy toy store during the holidays.

"Where were we before our feet were measured so thoroughly?" the guy says, mirth dancing in his eyes. "Oh yeah. _'Advice is subjective, while principles are constant.'_ " He nods slowly after echoing my words. "I like that. It's a good philosophy. Mind if I borrow it?"

"Not at all. Help yourself."

He rubs his jaw with his palm, and his gaze shifts to his daughter again. When he sees she's still laughing away with my son, he looks back at me.

"See, that little angel there wasn't easy to come by. My wife…she had some problems carrying her."

"Sorry to hear that."

He waves off my sympathy. "It all turned out fine, as you can see." Once again, his gaze sweeps to his daughter, and the smile he sends her way is infused with pure, fatherly adoration. "My wife though…between those issues and a previous issue she once had, well, occasionally, she has a hard time allowing our daughter room to grow into her own, little person."

"She's a real Mama Bear, huh?"

He grins wryly. "Oh, yeah. I get her, though." He's quiet for a few seconds. "But take right now, for instance. The only reason she's not here is that it's my sister's thirtieth birthday, and she woke up crying." He snorts. "So, my wife took her out for a day of shopping and brunch at Saks to cheer her up. Now, Munchkin over here," he jerks his jaw toward his daughter again, "she's been wanting to come to _The Big Piano_ ever since we rented _Big_ a couple of weeks ago."

"That's how my son found out about it too. And as soon as we planned this trip to New York, he begged me to bring him."

We laugh at the coincidence.

"So I offered to bring Munchkin here while my wife has some fun with my sister over there – a girls day out, and a Daddy/Daughter date, if you will."

"That was really good of you. Some dads would've just stayed home with their kid and sworn they were Father of the Year."

"Yeah, well. Doesn't look like you're one of those 'some dads' either," he says, giving me a sidelong look. "Point is, I think I'll share your philosophy regarding principles versus advice with my wife – but I'll take the credit for it if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," I chuckle. "I don't mind at all."

"Thanks," he grins. "I doubt I'll fool her, though; she's too smart for that. She'll probably figure out right away I didn't come up with it myself."

"Well, either way, I hope it works for you; though, if you don't mind me saying, it sounds like your wife is already a great mom."

His reply comes without a moment's hesitation. "Oh, she is. She's a terrific mom and an amazing wife."

His eyes are on his daughter again, but I get the feeling he's not actually seeing _her_ ; he's seeing that amazing wife of his. A sliver of envy courses through me, but it's quickly extinguished. I'm a firm believer that you get what you deserve. The guy obviously worships his wife; he deserves her.

"You sound like you really lucked out, man."

"I'm not even going to front. I totally did. I mean, of course, there's always ups and downs in a marriage, right? But when the ups constantly outweigh the downs? That's when you know you've got it good. That woman and I are going to grow old and gray together – well, at least I am. She hasn't even hit thirty, and she's already worried about grays," he laughs. "We're going to raise this Munchkin here, then spoil the hell out of the Munchkin's kids, etc. etc."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Hey, at the risk of sounding like a bit of a nosy bastard, mind if I ask you something somewhat personal?"

"Go ahead," I grin. "I'll let you know if you're a nosy bastard."

"You said you're divorced, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, why didn't you go for that before? She was kind of cute." He jerks his head toward the line, where the red-head has barely even inched forward. For a moment, I feel kind of sorry for her predicament – until she winks and blows me a kiss. Then, I swiftly look away.

The guy chuckles heartily.

"To answer your question honestly, I'll have to run the risk of getting somewhat personal with you."

He snorts and spreads his legs shoulder-width apart, firmly planting his feet in apparent anticipation. "Go ahead and take that risk," he says, grinning. "I gotta hear this."

"You know everything you just said about your wife – how you said she reminds you to perform a good deed daily, how you said her heart would've broken had she seen my son's sad face, how she loves snow, how she enjoys spending time with family, how smart she is, what a great a mother she is, yet she's also an amazing wife?"

He nods languidly, and I can tell he gets it.

" _That's_ what I'm looking for, and somehow, I don't think that red-head was it. Besides, I've got a son to raise; I don't have time to play games."

He nods up and down slowly, scrutinizing me. Then, he straightens. "I respect that, man, and I hope you find what you're looking for."

And there she is again.

In my head, running through my memories.

She would've been all those things I just described. She was already super smart, even in high school; so quick it intimidated me, fed my teenaged insecurities, and that right there was my first mistake.

She loved snow; I remember her telling me once, how she wanted to visit New York during Christmas someday so that she could make snow angels in Rockefeller Center. She was caring, never spoke meanly to anyone. She was protective. She cried, every single time, in the middle of _Stand By Me_ , when the overweight boy got bullied. Her small hands would fist, and she swore she'd kick those bullies asses if she ever met them. She would've been the best mother…and the most passionate, generous, and faithful wife.

I can't help wondering where she is. Does she still live in Paris or did she return to the U.S.? Did she get married? Did she have children?

Anthony and the Munchkin run over to us; sweaty, grinning and overexcited. It seems they've grown bored with _The Big Piano_ – the way kids tend to do. It's a good thing, though. I need the distraction. There's no point in thinking about her – not here; not now.

The little girl's perfectly smooth velvet dress doesn't look quite so perfect anymore. Anthony's red button-down shirt is wrinkled and has come untucked from his jeans. He'll be knocked out on the airplane going home.

He pulls on my shirt sleeves to make sure he has my complete attention – and he does have it.

"Dad, that was great! Did you see me? Did you see me play all those songs with the girl, Dad?"

"I saw you, buddy. You looked like you were having a blast." Smiling, I tussle his damp, reddish-blond hair.

"I totally was! And she's really fun too! For a little girl."

"Tony," I warn, "remember to show respect for girls of all ages, please. And did you thank her for letting you share her piano space?"

Meanwhile, Munchkin leans against her dad, her cheeks flushed, a grin on her angelic face, and her hand tucked within her father's.

"No," Anthony smirks. Nevertheless, he grins widely when he turns back to the little girl. "Thanks for sharing with me!"

"You're welcome," she giggles. "Mommy says it's good to share."

"Yes, thanks for letting him play with you." I smile down at Munchkin. She really is a little beauty, no older than six or seven years old, I'd say. Her resemblance to her father is actually striking; though, on her, their shared features are young, feminine, and soft.

For a fraction of a second, I wonder what it would've been like to have a daughter – not that my son isn't my treasure in every way. But I wonder what it would've been like to have a Daddy's Girl. In my imagination, however, she would've been dark-haired and dark-eyed, unlike this blond and blue-eyed angel.

"I had fun playing with him! He's so cool!" Munchkin exclaims, angling her head upward sharply to look at her dad, and breaking me out of my musings.

Her dad and I both chuckle.

"Well, I'm glad he behaved himself," I say. "Again, you were very kind."

"Yeah, she gets the kindness from her mom. Gets the good looks from me, though. Right, Munchkin?" He winks down at his daughter, making it clear he's teasing her.

She rolls her eyes. "Daddy, you always say I'm beautiful like Mommy."

"The women in my life are too smart for me," he says, shaking his head.

Grinning, I look at my watch, and noting the time, a fissure of alarm runs through me.

"Alright, Tony, get your coat on. We've got to meet Uncle Jas at the airport before he gets on that flight without us."

"Yeah, we better get going too, Munchkin," the guy says. "Your mom and your aunt are probably-"

At that moment, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket. "Yep. They're on their way to meet us. Let's hustle, kiddo."

While our kids don their winter wear, the guy asks me about our flight and airport information, and he suggests a shortcut to the airport that'll save us both time and cab fare. He also suggests we leave through the rear door because the front of the store is a literal tourist trap, packed with camera-toting, picture-snapping hordes who'll surround us.

"Thanks a lot, man. I didn't even know there was another exit. You've been a great help today." I reach out to shake his hand. "You've performed more than one good deed, and your wife'll be extremely proud."

He laughs heartily as he meets my hand. "From your mouth to God's ears."

His grip is tight as fuck, but not in that asshole manner some big guys sometimes have.

"By the way, I'm Ed."

"Good to meet you, Ed. I'm Sam. And this is-"

I suppose his phone vibrates again. This time, when he looks down at it, his eyes widen.

"Crap. Munchkin, we'd better go. Mom's outside, and she says the zombie horde of holiday shoppers is about to descend on her."

"Uh-oh, that can't be good. Glad we're going out the back way," I say jokingly, noting how on top of everything else, his wife appears to have a fun sense of humor. Lucky guy, indeed.

As I pull Tony toward the back exit, we wave at Sam and his daughter. "Guys, it was great meeting you. Thanks for everything."

"Great meeting you both as well," Sam says, waving back. "Have a safe flight home, and I hope everything works out well for you guys."

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Prologue – Blame the Red Bottoms**

 **Newport Beach, California**

 **Present Day**

With no Nutella Scones around, I blame the damn Red Bottoms for my current predicament.

Don't get me wrong; I love 'em. I really do. I own seven pairs. The last three pairs are my favorite. After all, they were given to me by my husband, Edward, for no reason or occasion other than how much he loves me.

Well, to be more specific, I should say he didn't give them to me for a _calendar-specific_ reason or occasion. In our almost three years of marriage, Edward and I have eschewed the generally-accepted convention of gifting one another on Christmas, on Valentine's Day, for our Anniversary, etc. Instead, we spoil the shit out of one another whenever the mood hits us – which is pretty often.

So yes, of course, there's a reason for the shoes. In Edward's case, every time I wear Red Bottoms, he splits his pants in the groin area. He attributes this to some nonsense regarding the way the slim, narrow six-inch heels lift and elongate the natural curve in my calves, which organically lead his eyes to my thighs and then inherently, the eyes stray upward to my ass – or something along those lines. The explanation is what I've managed to piece together from convoluted statements he's made because my usually articulate and well-spoken husband isn't the most enlightened creature once I've got those Red Bottoms on.

Therefore, it's safe to say that as soon as he comes home with a pair, I know he's going to have my legs up in the air while I wear those Red Bottoms and no other bottoms. Which is a fair deal, if you ask me. Keep the Red Bottoms coming, and I'll keep you coming. Win/win for all involved; even though we both know I'll happily do it without Red Bottoms thrown into the bargain.

In fact, I usually do it for no other reason, calendar-specific or Red-Bottomed, beyond how much I love him and how good he is to me in every way.

Anyway, I've veered off track here. Back to the reason I'm damning the RBs to the pits of hell.

So, I found them in my closet this morning, after Edward left for an office meeting. The box was wrapped in a big, red bow, and it had a note attached.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _It's been a hectic few months, love; I know. But we're almost there, and as with everything you ever do, you've been amazing. Here's a little something to add an extra smile to your morning (and then, if you keep them on, I'll add an extra scream for you tonight)._

 _Love you, always._

 _Your husband,_

 _Edward._

Well, the note wasn't one-hundred percent accurate. I've messed up quite a bit lately, just recently with Edward, and all over the past, few months with Ness…and with Anthony.

But, my husband is the best husband ever, and so are my kids. I didn't deserve this particular set of RBs, but Edward always forgives me, whether I deserve it or not.

And therein was my first mistake: You don't burn Nutella Scones, and you sure as hell don't wear RBs you don't deserve.

Anyway, back to the RBs. Since I had a few errands to run around L.A., and since Edward making me scream at night sounded like a good plan, one would've thought his timing perfect.

The RBs are your classic pump style, in nude patent leather – quite gorgeous and fitting for the glamour of Tinsel Town.

Man, Edward and I would've had a ball with these tonight. I'll admit, even as I teeter-totter down the hospital's slippery-tiled maternity ward as if I've invented my own Olympic Sprinting Fashion event, and even though I know I have no one but myself to blame, there's a song of requiem playing in the background for all the unfortunately-doomed-to-remain-unfulfilled potential the night held.

Oh, I'm not in this maternity ward for myself; though, in this day and age, I could still pop out a baby or two. But, Shitty Cervix Swan couldn't be counted on to safely hold a baby for nine full months when I was seventeen…or even twenty-three. Can you imagine the havoc it would wreck with me at forty-five?

Nonetheless, I am eternally grateful to Shitty Cervix for holding in my Vanessa for the eight, anxiety-riddled months it managed; otherwise, I wouldn't be here today, about to be…to be…

Oh, just spit it out, Bella!

"FUCK!"

No. Obviously, I'm not about to be a ' _fuck_ ;' though some – namely Tanya – might disagree. But unfortunately, that lovely word is the less than stellar exclamation that erupts from me as the right heel on my expensive-as-hell RBs finally gives, and my ankle twists, while I go tumbling face-first toward the shiny, white-tiled, hospital floor…

How the _hell_ did it all come to this?

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 ***About five years ago, my husband and I found out that we'd met, repeatedly, when we were about five years old. Apparently, my babysitter was good friends with his parents, and they came over a few times while I was being babysat. I only have the vaguest memories of meeting him at this age: just foggy images really, of running around with him in the backyard. We discovered it when I happened to mention my sitter's name to my MIL, and one thing led to another. So…yeah.**

 **Anyway, thank you for coming along on this new ride! Bella and Edward have a new adventure waiting for them, and we'll have ten or so chapters in which to see how they handle it.**

 **The posting schedule was supposed to be 3x/week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.**

 **HOWEVER, since I began writing the story, I had a couple of unexpected trips come up, one for pleasure and one for business. The pleasure one starts tomorrow! The fam and I will be on a boat, and we tend to unplug for these fam vacations.**

 **That being said, I'd still like to keep the postings to 3x/week.**

 **So THIS WEEK, I'll post TODAY, TOMORROW, and likely FRIDAY, when we reach land and I'll plug back in for a bit.**

 **NEXT WEEK: I'll likely post WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, and FRIDAY!**

 **So, you can visit me on Facebook for story discussions and for visuals of Edward, Bella, Anthony, Nessie, AND Sam. Or you can hit me up on Twitter to talk. ;)**

 **Hope to hear from all of you! Thanks!**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	2. Ch 1 Why I Hate The Number 45

**A/N: Good morning! I absolutely loved hearing from you guys, new readers and old. I'm off on** _ **Carnival**_ **this morning (Yay!), and in the rush of getting these next two chapters publish-ready and uploaded into FF, I had to put off replying. But I promise to get back to you all next week.**

 **Quickly, to those of you who asked about UPRISING, it WILL return. But I sort of committed myself to a few different things, which I have to get done first before I can return to Patriotward. ;)**

 **Okay, here's the next chappy to this one, and the following should post on Friday when I'm back on land. :)**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **All negligible rights are reserved. Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. Pardon any and all mistakes, etc., etc. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Let's Start With Why I Hate the Number Forty-Five**

 **SEPTEMBER - SIX MONTHS EARLIER:**

The Cali sun begins its descent just as we set sail from Newport Beach Harbor. One would think the excursion was planned that way; timed to coincide with dusk – which, of course, it was. It's all a well-tuned symphony. Everyone yells, "Surprise!" then Father Nature and Mother Technology fuse and comingle to paint a quintessential and picturesque SoCal postcard.

On the horizon, billowy clouds abandon the innocence of ivory and instead showcase their true colors, morphing into fiery flames streaking across a blue sky. The flames spread and intensify, and just as a trickle of fear begins to seep into my heart, a timely breeze whips through the tall, languid palm trees along the harbor. Emerald leaves sway against the glowing backdrop. Behind the trees, the trendy restaurants and high-end shops lining the mile-long marina fire up their bulbs. Meanwhile, out on the water, string lights crisscross above the parked yachts and illuminate the harbor. Once the picture is complete, its shimmering reflection ripples off the Pacific.

I lean against the yacht's railing and sigh as I take in the kaleidoscope above me. There was a time I could've never pictured myself living here, away from the hectic pace of New York life. Yes, it's all a veritable playground for the filthy rich here, but it _is_ gorgeous. It's also immensely different from the amazing, skyscraper sunsets I looked up at for twenty years. However, that was part of another life.

Oh, wait. Am I giving off the wrong vibe here? Because WE are _not_ The Filthy Rich. The yacht on which we're sailing is merely rented for the next three hours – three of the twenty-four hours which encompass the twenty-fourth anniversary of the twenty-first year since my birth. A complicated way to look at it, I know, but those who've been there will totally empathize – unless you're Alice, who celebrated the same anniversary as me a few months ago, yet had the nerve to type out the following bluntly worded text this morning:

 **Happy Birthday, Bella! Girl, the way I see it, you've got two ways to look at the situation: you're only five years over forty, or you're still five years under fifty. Pick one, and deal with it. Love ya!**

My, how things have changed since a certain someone ushered in the _ninth_ anniversary of her twenty-first year with buckets of tears. Damned lawyers.

It just so happens, my original plans for the day did involve 'dealing with it.' I planned to deal with it by going about my day in the same way I've gone about my days since moving here to sunny Newport Beach – by staying warm, happy, and busy.

Unfortunately, it appears my husband had other plans, involving anarchy, betrayal, and a total disregard of _my_ plans. Now, I have a boatload of people lounging around and waiting to offer me congratulations for nothing beyond my ability to grow fucking old.

Lest anyone think I'm unaware of my current, bitchy attitude, I assure you, I'm not. But here, I'll disclose something: Despite my grouchy inner monologue, I _am_ grateful I've made it this far. My first husband, Sam, never lived to see his forty-sixth birthday. So yes, I know how precious life is.

But damn. _Forty-five_.

I shake the abominable number out of my head.

Where was I? Oh, yes; I was entertaining thoughts on extreme wealth, so as to avoid entertaining other, morbid thoughts. See? I know myself.

Continuing in that vein, I won't deny that between Edward's steady, successful Import/Export business and our entrepreneurial ventures with our kids, we do well. And yes, I've seen how he eyes the yachts lining the harbor. He even priced one out recently – at four to five million. But if my husband ever blows four to five million on a yacht, I'll choke the ever-living shit out of him.

No, I won't _really_ choke him. Regardless of how upset I am at him right now, I'm also madly in love with the guy. Plus, choking gets messy.

However, neither do I plan to end up like one of those pretentious, semi-retired, yacht-owning couples who wear matching sailor shirts and neckties while arguing in phony, British accents. I mean, look at how tragically that ended for that old couple who sailed away on a yacht in the Pacific. Their adventure started out innocently enough, at a tropic port aboard a tiny ship. Then, the weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed, and a few catchy lyrics later, they ended up shipwrecked on an uncharted desert isle, with little entertainment beyond the misadventures of an accident-prone, red-shirt wearing sailor, and a bunch of transformer-like coconuts.

' _Edwahd dahlin', we've used these coconuts to make everything from_ _piña_ _coladas to automobiles, yet we still can't figure out how to get off this island! Perhaps if I were to wear the Captain's hat now, I might come up with a plan?'_

' _I'm afraid I shan't be giving up my Captain's hat anytime soon, Lovey- erm...Isabella. You must simply accustom yourself to being First Mate.'_

I chuckle at my admittedly insane mental musings.

"Mrs. Masen, are you trying to avoid your party and the date on the calendar by entertaining yourself with crazy thoughts?"

The shipwrecked thespian whom just starred in my imagination knows me too, obviously; at least, I thought he did. When I don't bother turning at the sound of his voice, Edward walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls my back flush against his chest, and the warm breeze skips through my hair as his warm breath tickles my neck.

I have it good; I do know it. I mean, what more can I ask for from life? Unfortunately, I also know that sometimes, having it too good gets taken away from you at the drop of a dime.

And, I'm still pissed at Edward.

"I'm picturing you as an old, pompous fart, who owns his own little sailing vessel, speaks in a weird, uppity accent, and sails away every weekend to Fiji and Bora Bora."

"Fiji _and_ Bora Bora, from Newport Beach, every weekend, huh? Wow, Old-Fart-Edward is no joke."

The guy rarely misses a beat. What's more, his ensuing chuckles are slightly muffled as he presses his mouth to my collarbone and grazes my skin with his five-o-clock stubble – something he knows I love, the bastard.

"Bella…have you been consulting Nutella Scones on the meaning of life again?"

"My God, do you and Alice ever plan to let that go?" I roll my eyes at the slowly-receding coastline, where the sun dips lower, and its glow shifts from fuzzy peach to rosy pink.

"I'll let it go only after you do me a favor and use your culinary soothsaying powers to clear up something of vital importance, something which I've been wondering for a while now."

"What's that?" I ask warily.

"In your visions of the future," – Edward pauses – "do I still have a full head of hair?"

"I ought to make you suffer and wonder," I hiss, while he laughs and laughs, "but yes, you do."

"Ahh. Then, all's well with the future."

"Conceited, pain in my ass," I say, but we're both laughing by this point.

"Bella, you _are_ aware that if I ever turn into an old fart who captains his own yacht, you'll be Mrs. Old Fart, first-mating your way to Fiji right along with me." He smacks his lips hard against the side of my face, planting a noisy kiss on my temple.

"I knew it! I knew that was your plan all along," I accuse, "and I don't think so, mister. There's no way in hell you're relegating me to First Mate while you usurp the role of Captain."

"Usurp? What exactly are you envisioning?" he asks, his tone full of wonder. Then, he snorts and shakes his head. "Never mind. Seriously, Bella, you don't have to worry about either of us turning into yacht-sailing, high-and-mighty, wanna-be-society windbags any time soon – unless you've got an extra forty-five million dollars tucked away somewhere that I don't know about. Do you?" His hands move up to cup and squeeze my breasts, and he laughs when I smack them away. "I guess not."

"Where exactly in these B plus plus cups would I have four to five million dollars stashed…" Turning my head sharply away from the marina, I take him in through narrowed eyes. "Wait. Edward, when you came home the other day, didn't you say you and Jasper priced out one of these contraptions at four to five million?"

Edward lifts his mouth from my shoulder. "I said _forty-five_ million."

" _Forty-five million?"_

"Yeah, my love, forty-five million."

"Dollars? Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure we were dealing in dollars, yeah."

"That's just ridiculous."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Bella, had it been _four to five_ million, which we planned to split between the Hales and us anyhow, I would've mortgaged us to the hilt first and happily borne your fury later. _Forty-five_ million, however, is a different story."

"Forty-five." I shake my head in unabating disbelief. "That damn number is just haunting me today."

Based on Edward's ensuing snort and the humor in his eyes, he fails to commiserate here. Or he just pretends he fails to commiserate.

Either way, I return my gaze to the water, while Edward rests his chin on my head. For a couple of minutes, we stand by the railing, back to chest, in comfortable silence because the sun's waning edges are morphing into liquid gold, and when that happens, it's a sight you don't miss. With a final flash of protest, it shimmers its way into oblivion, it's last rays performing a lingering waltz across the horizon.

There's a tree in our backyard, which Edward and I planted together right after we married. It's still young, but its palms are already high enough to cast a wide canopy above us when we lay a blanket close to its trunk. Sometimes, as the sun sets, Edward and I sit under the tree together. Sometimes, while I'm in the kitchen trying out a new recipe, or on the sofa doing market research, my gaze wanders beyond the windows, and I spot Edward beside the tree…talking…smiling. Invariably, he returns to the house, kisses me, and strokes my stomach.

Behind us, the tinkling of fine china and crystal mingles with excited voices and nineties era grunge, music which I'm not ready to face – literally or figuratively.

"By the way, have you always had this issue differentiating between forty-five and four _to_ five? Because I seem to recall hearing about a similar misunderstanding a few years back."

"I was in a noisy, New York City restaurant, and my ex-boyfriend's carbon-copy _Spawn_ had suddenly popped into my life that afternoon, in the form of my daughter's boyfriend. Forgive me if my bewilderment impaired my hearing."

I whisper the word 'Spawn' to ensure said Spawn doesn't overhear me from wherever he happens to be on this boat. Occasionally, his dad and I tease one another on the subject, but the truth is…the truth is that _Spawn_ is one of the three most important people in my life.

Meanwhile, Edward simply snickers because he knows this fact quite well.

"And anyway, if I recall correctly," I continue, "you weren't exactly at the top of your game that night either, Casanova, between colliding with waiters and spilling cocktails on me, and then practically holding a pissing contest with Jay right there at the crowded table."

"Forgive _me_ if I was a bit on edge after unexpectedly bumping into _my_ ex, the one woman I'd always known was The One Who Got Away. And please don't remind me of Family Fucking Friend. By the end of that summer, after all the shit that guy pulled, I wanted to do a lot worse than piss on him. Fucker," Edward growls.

I can't help chortling. "My point is, no, Mr. Masen; I have no problem differentiating between forty-five and four _to_ five. For example, had you spent four to five million dollars on a yacht, yes, you would've had some serious fury to contend with at home. However, had you spent forty-five million dollars on a yacht, I would've divorced you. Likewise, if I were four to five years old, I'd probably love the fact that you decided to throw me a surprise birthday party and invited everyone under the sun. At forty-five years old, I hate you right now."

As soon as I finish, Edward turns me around in his arms so that I'm fully facing him. He locks his hands together behind my waist, his eyes alight with humor.

"That mouth, Jesus. First, you don't hate me, and you would never divorce me," he smirks, "not if I spent forty-five million dollars, and not if I threw you a yearly surprise birthday party for the next four _to_ five years."

I tilt my head upward to hold his gaze. "You talk like you're so sure about that."

He draws closer, his warm breath on my mouth now – even better than on my neck. "That's because I am," he says smugly.

Edward's green eyes crease at the corners. At forty-eight years old, he has a few laugh lines, especially when he grins as wide as he does now. The recently-developed grays scattered above his forehead have begun spreading and mixing with the grays he's had at his temples since I met him…or should I say, since I met him again. Lately, I've also noticed a few silver whiskers sprout up along his jawline when he lets his facial hair grow.

None of which detract from his good looks. In fact, with every passing year, my husband matures into the perfect blend of distinguished gentleman and rough-hewn masculine – Mr. Darcy meets Indiana Jones if you will.

Yet, every once in a while, a certain expression flickers across his face: a smirk, a crooked grin, a quirk of his still-all-dark eyebrows, or he'll laugh in a way that infuses his emerald gaze with all the mischief of his youth. In those moments, my stomach flutters like I'm back in the days when Edward and I were just…teenagers in love.

I inhale and exhale deeply, lifting my hands to his lapels so I can smooth away hypothetical wrinkles and wipe off specks of nonexistent dirt. I'm taking a few moments to catch my breath, to reclaim my self-possession and self-control. It's been slipping a lot more lately. Edward knows this, and if I know him, he's not going to willingly give me a few moments to regroup. Therefore, I go for distraction.

"You've had this jacket for a while. It's the same one you wore the first time you took me out to dinner in New York City."

"I know." He grins crookedly. "It's my lucky jacket. I remember how you kept eyeing me that night, and I also remember how when I dropped you off at home, and we stood by the door, you finally let me touch you the way I'd been dying to touch you since the moment I spilled those cocktails on you."

His voice drops to a whisper, and he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, taking me in through darkened, slightly-glazed and hooded eyes. I can tell he's replaying every detail of those few minutes by the door on that hot, June evening…his hand languidly sliding up the inside of my thigh…the June heat…my skin prickling as the tips of his two longest fingers inched higher…the June heat…the pads of his fingers finding and rubbing circles in just the right spot, with just the right pressure…and all of it magnified by the somewhat-taboo nature of standing _right_ at the door, where Edward's slightest shift would reveal us…yet, he kept going, all through that damned June _heat_ …

A succession of uneven breaths escapes me. Yeah. Yeah, he's remembering alright. Anyone can see his control slipping. I've totally got him here.

"Is that why you wore the jacket tonight? Hoping you'll get lucky?"

"Bella, I consider every morning, noon, and night lucky since the moment you and I got together again."

"See?" I reach up and slip my arms around his shoulders, pursing my lips. "It's when you say those sorts of things that you totally win."

He chuckles softly. "We both win."

"You're right; we do. And you're absolutely right that I don't hate you, and I'd never divorce you, and you're right about one more thing."

He pulls me in closer, chest to chest. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"For forty-five as opposed to four _to_ five million dollars, your pretty ass better forget about ever owning one of these overpriced dinghies."

He throws back his head and bursts into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're the boss, wifey."

"Sorry, Mr. Masen, but you and I will just have to stick to flying – not that I do _that_ very well."

I want to kick myself as soon as the words slip out, because Edward's grin instantly evaporates, and his shoulders stiffen. Even though it's gotten a bit better over the past few years, my issue with flying is something which causes him almost as much anxiety as it does me.

Edward still has a hard time accepting that there's nothing he could've done or undone that day, which would've changed the outcome. I mean, it's something he knows in his head, but occasionally, his heart still whispers that perhaps had we not argued that afternoon…perhaps if he'd followed me onto that airplane and been there…

I understand the back and forth struggle between what he knows and what he occasionally wishes. I understand because it took a long, long time for me to finally make complete peace with it.

Cradling his face between my hands, I hold his gaze and offer him a tender smile.

"Better yet, let's stick to Newport Beach. It's got everyone we love most in this world within easily-manageable car rides."

Edward slides his hands around my neck and sighs before playing along.

"Like Ness and Anthony, who live just a few miles away."

"And Jasper, who's just a few miles away, too. Hurrah," I add dryly. "Though Alice and our baby goddaughter, Sammy, are with him, so I guess that's his saving grace."

Edward chuckles because he knows I'm teasing. At this point, Jasper and I taunt and argue with one another simply because it's fun.

Edward's shoulders relax. "And we've got our own Anthony Tree in our own back yard. Though, it's also great that your parents are right in Phoenix. Whenever we drive over to see them or they come to us, your mom lets me know exactly how to care for the tree so that someday, it might look half as healthy as the one in their backyard. That's great; I enjoy that immensely," he nods.

"Ah, yes. Mom won't ever relinquish complete jurisdiction over the Anthony Tree tradition. God, I'm so glad I didn't inherit her tendency toward overcontrol. But you want to know what _I_ enjoy? I enjoy those visits to your parents in Seattle, or when they come to us. Your dad always reminds me how I should stay home and take care of the house while you take care of me. He assures me this is why divorce rates are so high nowadays because women want to be the man in the relationship, and then they have the utter gall to wonder why their husbands' eyes wander? What's more, while my career successes may gratify _me_ , they may actually serve to emasculate _you_."

I whisper the last two words and gasp, clasping a hand over my mouth in feigned horror.

Edward rolls his eyes and groans.

"That guy, I swear. No matter how many times I tell him to keep his shitty thoughts and advice to himself."

"Shitty advice is a parent's prerogative. Haven't you learned that yet?"

"That's why I try to stay away from advice-giving, darlin'. As long as they have good principles-"

"Besides," I say, speaking over him, "last but certainly not least on our list of 'People We Love Who Are Within A Short Driving Distance' has to be your Baby Mamma right in L.A.; we can't forget your Baby Mamma – especially with how often lately she pops into Newport Beach to visit the kids."

Here, Edward shuts his eyes and rakes a hand through his full head of hair. All the while, I'm laughing.

"Bella, I'm telling you, the only reason Tanya is around so much lately is that she's so damn envious of the relationship that's developed between you and Anthony over the past few years." He snorts. "She was never like this before. It drives her nuts that not only are you Anthony's business partner and his mentor, you're also his stepmom and his mother-in-law _all_ rolled into one."

"It does sound sort of disturbing when you put it that way. Anyhow, Edward, it's a good thing that Tanya's trying harder to develop a relationship with Anthony. No matter what, she's his mom."

Even as I say it, I swallow back the teeny-tiny lump that always threatens to choke me when I acknowledge aloud that Anthony isn't… _my_ Anthony. Again, head and heart don't always see eye-to-eye.

But, at least, Edward doesn't notice, and at least I've succeeded in making him forget about my issue with airplanes.

Or maybe not.

He studies me closely as if he can read the thoughts running through my head, which sometimes I think he can. After a few seconds, he exhales, and again, his hands knit together at the lower curve of my spine, his fingers splaying over my behind.

"Hey, my love," he whispers in my ear, "in case I haven't said it lately, _you_ are the best mom and the best wife ever. Despite all your insane teasing…your love is never about winning a competition. And I know I said this already, and I know you hate the number forty-five today for…a variety of reasons, but Bella, whether you're seventeen, forty-five, or ninety, you'll always be my beauty. It's in your name, for the love of God," he chuckles. But then, he sobers. "You know we can discuss him if you need to, Bella. You don't need to keep any of your feelings bottled up."

"I know that, Edward. But I'd really rather not, especially not with this boatload of people here," I say pointedly.

"You're right," he agrees softly. "So now, let's stop hiding from all these guests, which assembled from coast-to-coast, to celebrate my beauty's big day."

When his mouth meets mine, he kisses me gently, reverently…then passionately as he cups my cheek.

It's always this way with us, this…awe we still feel toward one another. Yes, we lived full lives in between, and no, neither of us can or will regret those previous lives. Nonetheless, we're still amazed we rediscovered one another, that we're able to share _this_ life…that despite having burned the previous batch of our love so badly, this new batch is cooking up just about perfectly. What were the chances Fate would bring us together again after that horrible day in his dorm room?

So, as I pull away from his soft lips, I remind myself of this; I remind myself that despite his current betrayal, Edward really does love me. I tell myself that there must be a great story behind why he's invited Alice and Jasper, my parents and his parents, friends, and acquaintances from the west coast and friends and acquaintances from the east coast…and Tanya and her parents, and even Sam's parents to celebrate my birthday.

"Thank you, Edward, and I swear I mean that from the bottom of my heart, but…" I exhale through narrowed lips, "just as an FYI for the future? Contact List does not equal Party Guest List."

"What?" Edward snorts.

"I mean, Tanya? _And_ Sam's parents?"

"Isabella Masen," he sighs, "why the heck would _I_ invite Tanya to your party?"

"That's exactly my thought! Why would you-"

"Babe, _I_ didn't plan this surprise party."

"You didn't?"

"Nope. I was just as surprised as you when we got here to meet Ness and Anthony for dinner, and this omnium-gatherum of people popped out of nowhere."

"You were?" I frown. "Well, if you didn't invite this motley assortment here, and I sure as hell didn't invite them, then in whose universe does it make sense for Tanya and for Sam's parents to share the same space?"

"Mom!"

"Dad!"

Both our heads swivel sideways simultaneously.

"Why those couple of… _spawns_ ," I mutter.

Edward chuckles. "Yep. It was the spawns. The question is… _why_?"

* * *

 **A/N: What are we thinking?**

 **So, why does Bella hate the number forty-five?**

 **She's turning forty-five today, and as vain as that may seem to some, it's not always easy to accept you're reaching middle-age. (Those of you thirty-nine years old and younger, trust me on this.)**

 **Edward is dying for his own yacht, and apparently, they've just figured out it wouldn't cost a handful of a million dollars to own one (or, at least, to own the type of yacht they want) but tens of millions of dollars. (Forty-five million for the one he priced out, lol!).**

 **And no, number 2 likely isn't a real reason; it's a distraction. The top reason that gets to Bella more than the rest, and which Edward, being the wonderful husband that he is, understands and accepts, is the fact that Sam died when he was forty-five. Those of you who read Begin Again might remember this. (If not, here's your reminder). So, as Bella quickly states at the beginning of the chapter, he never made it to forty-six.**

 **When my sister passed away right after turning 40, I was 37. The year I hit 40 wasn't easy for me for a variety of reasons. So, yeah.**

 **Anyway, I just wanted to give you guys a bit more insight into what's running through Bella's head in this chapter besides reruns of Gilligan's Island. ;)**

 **One more update this week, probably Friday. I'm off to get my first mojito of the week!**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	3. Ch 2 Then, She Called Him Pop

**A/N: Good morning! This is the last update of the week. Hope you're enjoying this late summer story! I loved reading all your thoughts when I plugged back in this morning to post this, but as I'm on a beach in Grand Turk right now, I'll have to get back to all of you guys next week!**

 **All negligible rights are reserved. Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. Pardon any and all mistakes, etc., etc. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Then, She Called Him Pop**

Heading our way is Vanessa Laurent – pardon me, I must remember to say Vanessa Laurent-Masen, before I get my head chewed off. She took the name about a year ago after she graduated from UCLA's Business School – and obviously, after she got married. They married young, yes, but I suppose the undeniable adoration between them couldn't be put off any longer. And, at least it wasn't a shotgun wedding; she's still got years to hit that particular milestone.

At her side and holding her hand, as usual, is young Anthony Masen, her husband.

The newlyweds close in on us. "Surprise, Mom!"

Ness throws her long and toned arms around my shoulders, while I wrap my shorter arms around her waist because she's like fifty feet tall.

"Were you surprised? We're you?" She adds this in an excitedly shrill voice I haven't heard from her since she was like five.

"Boy, was I ever."

As soon as she releases me, Anthony pulls me into his arms.

"Happy Birthday, Mom."

His sentiments are offered in a much more subdued tone, with a somewhat abashed smile on his handsome, little face. I shoot them both a smirk as I pull away.

"Gee, thanks – oh so much."

"It's not that bad," he grins. "Besides," taking both my hands in his, Anthony pulls back enough to peruse my outfit, "you look perfect for the occasion."

Geez, this darn… _Spawn_ – makes it so hard for me to even mentally indulge in my cute, little nickname for him. Nonetheless,

"I call bull," I say, pulling away my hands. "As much as I like this black wrap dress, it's more 'intimate dinner with husband, daughter, son-in-law slash stepson, best friend, and best friend's pain-in-the-ass husband' than 'impress people from both U.S. coasts during your surprise birthday party.' Now, you and Ness sure dressed for the occasion. And your dad," I shift my gaze to Edward, in his white button-down, dark slacks and sports jacket, and I wave a dismissive hand, "well, he always looks good."

They all laugh heartily.

Anthony and Ness are the picture of classic elegance merged with hipster edginess. Ness wears her golden hair up in one of those wispy, messy buns that declares to the world, ' _I am Millennial._ ' Her pink and white dress sports off-the-shoulder straps which showcase the golden skin tone that's one of the many side perks of living in SoCal. The top of the dress is a daring, corset-like bodice, but its questionability is offset by the long, flowing gossamer skirt attached. Her makeup is minimal, her black sandals are understated, and the only jewelry she wears are a white gold, toe ring and her platinum wedding band.

Anthony wears a navy blue, button-down shirt tucked into a pair of gray slacks, a pair of dark brown oxfords, and a whimsically-striped, sky-blue and red tie that's long, slim, and stands out against the colors of the rest of his outfit. Even in my mind, it sounds like a weird ensemble, but somehow, the boy makes it work. The narrow cut of his clothing accentuates the athletic build and the tall frame he inherited from his dad. His hair is like his dad's in texture and in its perpetually windblown style, but in color, Anthony's hair leans more toward his mother's - blond with ginger highlights.

As they stand together side by side, various pairs of eyes stray in their direction, but it's always that way with Anthony and Ness. For one, it's impossible to miss how in love they are – it radiates off them and permeates their surroundings. There are the almost ceaseless gazes between them, the continuous caresses, a tender smile here, and a stroke of the cheek there.

For another, you can't ignore what a striking couple these two make, and I don't mean that in an annoyingly smug, ' _We begot two demigods'_ manner. I take absolutely no credit whatsoever for either Anthony or Nessie's looks. The former was conceived by Edward and his ex-wife, the woman with whom he once broke my heart – your quintessential couple of gorgeous fuckers who fucked. That's all I'll say about that because Edward and I already rehashed that particular subject one summer, ad nauseum.

The latter was conceived by my first husband, Sam, a man whose family gene pool is often compared to that of Norse gods, and by me. Now, I've always seen myself as your averagely-pretty woman with what I like to consider above-average intelligence, shorter than average height, and below-average-sized B-cup boobs I often pretend are closer to your average Cs. Lucky for Ness – if one considers inheriting massively good looks fortuitous – that Laurent DNA isn't only beautiful, it's also carried on the backs of some Viking-warrior-like chromosomes. My twenty-three and me never stood a chance in that epic battle for genetic control.

So, while their good looks can't be ignored, what makes me genuinely proud of Ness is the fact that she's a good _person_. Oh, she's got her moments; instances when I want to bash her face in, when she's mouthy and stubborn and pig-headed, and that know-it-all attitude – a trait admittedly inherited from a Swan Twenty-Three who managed to kick Viking Twenty-Three ass – rears its ugly head.

However, in the past couple of years, she's assumed full responsibility – and very successfully – for Swan Bellies' successor, here on the West Coast. She's got brilliant business and artistic acumen. She requires perfection when necessary, yet she's better than me at allowing room for mistakes and improvement. Most importantly, she's a wonderful and caring friend, daughter, stepdaughter, and wife. Yes, I'll fully concede Ness inherited every bit of her looks from Sam, but I hope I can credit myself for at least a small portion of the incredible woman she's become.

Then…there's Anthony.

"And not only is it bad enough I've been tricked into attending my own surprise birthday party, but I've got to deal with all the staring that accompanies standing anywhere within a fifty feet radius of you two." I sweep my gaze around the boat and then return it to Anthony, lifting an eyebrow.

Anthony leans into my ear. "Hey, Mom…did you ever consider that maybe it's _you and Dad_ everyone's always staring at?" He pulls back and lifts both eyebrows.

Darn Spawn.

"So, we really managed to surprise you?" he asks. "Here I told Ness I doubted we'd get away with it." Now his grin is a replica of his father's grin, as is his stance – one hand buried in his pocket and the other wrapped around his wife's shoulder.

"Let's put it this way. Had I known this was a surprise birthday party as opposed to an intimate dinner with the few people in my life whom I thought I could trust, you would've never gotten me on this boat."

Ness laughs loudly – a bit _too_ loudly. Her cheeks are ruddy, and her blue eyes sparkle impishly. They're jumpy too, bouncing from one face to another as if she can't hold anyone's gaze for too long. She vibrates at Anthony's side, the arm she has draped around his waist acting more like an anchor. And her grin is rather goofy.

Strange. Ness usually isn't the type to get drunk this early on at a party. We've barely even left the marina. Land is still visible.

"We know we wouldn't have gotten you on the yacht otherwise, Mom, which is why we didn't tell you and planned the party as a _surprise_." Her eyes flicker to Edward, who stands next to me in the same pose in which Anthony stands next to Ness. "And that's why we didn't tell you either, Pop, because you tell Mom everything."

"Whoa." Edward chuckles, only pretending offense at the accusation. All the while, I silently commend him, because he's playing off cool as a cucumber flawlessly. Nevertheless, I'm his wife. I sense and feel the shockwaves rolling through his frame.

No, no; it's not because Ness just accused him of having a big mouth. See, Ness just called him 'Pop.' She's _never_ called Edward 'Pop.'

To be clear, she hasn't withheld the appellation because she doesn't love or respect Edward's dual roles in her life as her father-in-law and stepfather. I'll admit they suffered some awkwardness during those early weeks and months of Edward's and my relationship, back when I still lived in New York. The reasons, again, we won't rehash.

But once Ness accepted that Edward's place in my life was as permanent as was his place in Anthony's life, and once Edward stopped tip-toeing around her like he needed her seal of approval stamped on his forehead, their relationship took off. Nevertheless, whereas Anthony calling me 'Mom' has been almost instinctive since the moment he and Ness got engaged – because, let's be honest, Baby Mamma was no rock star – Nessie grew up with a dad who adored her and whom she adored in return. So even once Sam was gone, she reserved the title for _him_. That's why this 'Pop' thing is such a shocker.

There's a moment of relative silence which lasts just a beat longer than normal before Edward finally manages to reply.

"You wanted me to keep something from your mom, Ness? Have you _met_ her?"

The three break out into hysterical fits of laughter, seemingly in agreement on how difficult I can be.

"The betrayal knows no bounds," I say, but in my head, I'm still thinking, 'Holy crap, she called him 'Pop'.'

Nessie reaches for me and weaves her fingers through mine.

"Come on, Mom. Look around us. Look at these magnificent lives we lead. We rise every morning to a bright blue sun, which sets every evening in the most vibrant shades of coral against spectacularly evergreen palms. Everyone we love most in the world are happy and healthy and warm and safe and right on this boat or in our hearts. So why are you so cranky tonight?" She laughs. "Because you're _forty-five?_ You're young, Mom! We're both young! We're two generations of young, Higginbotham women, and…and yeah."

She gives my hand a tight squeeze in what I assume is supposed to be commiseration? Comradery? On what, our _ages_?

At my side, Edward buries his face in my hair. His chest rumbles with his efforts to keep his bubbling laughter from escaping. In the meantime, Anthony's gaze is glued to the deck floor, his lips sealed together.

"Nessie, sweetie, while that little piece of poetry was somewhat simplistic, non-rhyming, and disconnected, it was pretty and precise, and you had me going with it right 'til you yelled out my age. That ending needs some tweaking as well."

In a throwback to the Nessie of old, she rolls her eyes and laughs at me. "Mom, you're so crazy."

I've decided Ness is either being obtuse or purposely mean this evening, and I'm hoping it's obtuseness, because I just spent a whole lot of mental fortitude monologuing on her excellence.

"Ness, what in the world has gotten into-"

Anthony clears his throat. "Ness, babe, maybe we should let the rest of the fam and friends greet your mom." He moves in close to her ear and whispers something inaudible.

"Am I?" she says, chuckling much more quietly. "I guess I'm so excited I didn't realize it."

"Alice and Jasper are coming over." Edward gestures with that perfectly square jaw of his, and I look over to where Mr. and Mrs. Hale are greeting friends and family, slowly winding their way toward us.

"Come on, Ness. Let's go see what everyone else is up to." Anthony offers her one of those tender smiles. "We'll catch up with you guys later."

Hand in hand, he and Ness start to pull away, but before they've moved out of reach, Ness swoops back in.

"I'll see you in a few, Mommy," she whispers, kissing my cheek. She then kisses Edward's stubbly cheek and grins. "Take care of her, Pop. Don't let her throw herself overboard. Love you, guys!"

Edward chuckles. "Will do, kiddo, and we love you, too."

As soon as they're out of hearing range, Edward releases a long breath and lays a hand on his heart. His usually broad shoulders slump as if maintaining the cool, calm, and collected façade has just earned him his senior citizen discount card.

"Holy hell."

"I know," I say.

He rakes a hand through his full head of hair, and with Alice and Jasper inching closer, he rushes through his whispered thoughts.

"I mean, not that I'm not ecstatic. I've always…" he swallows, "but I understood, you know? The circumstances were different."

I nod erratically. "I know."

"Babe, please say something other than _'I know.'_ Give me some of your words of wisdom – even the Nutella Scones kind. I'm bewildered here."

"I know!"

I really _can't_ say more. I'm still trying to puzzle through the fact that Ness not only called Edward 'Pop' – more than once – but she kissed both our cheeks, called me 'Mommy,' _and_ told us both she loved us, all within the space of five minutes.

"Edward, this definitely merits a long discussion, and I promise I'll be as witty as possible, but the Hales are here, and you know what a nosy fucker Jasper is. Jasper, hey!" I grin.

Jasper's arms wrap around me. "Happy Birthday, Little Lady," he chuckles, "and I heard that."

"I see you're still unable to mind your own business."

He pulls back and offers me a smirk. "And _I_ see forty-five hasn't affected the size of your mouth."

"In case you ever wonder, it's stuff like this."

"You mean one of the many reasons why you love me?"

I quirk an eyebrow at him. Meanwhile, Edward stops laughing long enough to pull me back into his side.

"Jasper, man, leave my wife alone. It's her day, for God's sakes."

Jasper grins. "That's right. It's your day, Bella. _Your_ day. Your _birthday_."

"Asshole."

"Alright, Jasper, that's enough teasing my girl." Alice nudges her husband aside and stands in front of me, hands on hips.

And here's another example of those Laurent genes I mentioned earlier.

Like me, Alice is in her forties. Unlike me, she had a baby a couple of years ago. But you know that little extra layer of fat most of us carry for the first couple of years after childbirth, the one we bitch and moan about because it refuses to go away no matter how much we diet and exercise? And then, after a while, we're like, fuck it; this shit is so not worth my starving myself and having a mental breakdown?

Well, apparently, in Laurent women, the after-childbirth process works slightly differently. In Laurent women, those magical genes distribute that extra little layer of fat _exactly_ where it would look best; with no need for the exercise, diet, bitching, moaning, and eventual tears of surrender. In Alice's case, it means that since Sammy was born, Alice has the curves and butt cheeks of a reality TV star without all the accompanying drama.

"Happy Birthday, Bella," my once sister-in-law and always best friend says, hugging me tightly.

"Thank you, backstabber. You could've warned me."

"I knew nothing," she says, but the accompanying throaty chuckles are proof she lies.

"Where's my goddaughter? Her sweet little self in my arms is the only way I'll forgive you." I reach my hands out in a gimme-gimme gesture.

Edward and I have an obsession with our two-year-old goddaughter, Samantha…Sammy Hale. See, as godparents, we have the best of both worlds. We get to play with her, spoil her, love her and kiss her and hug her. Then, when she gets cranky, we return her.

In features, Sammy is the spitting image of her mom (those Laurent genes; I'm telling you), but she has her father's dark coloring, his dark, curly hair, and his wicked spirit. And with those blue Laurent eyes she inherited standing out so prominently from her sweet, caramel face? That one is going to give her parents thick grays when she grows up. I can't wait.

"Then I guess I'm in deep trouble because Sammy's not here. Mike and Jess are babysitting her," Alice says.

"Mike and Jess are babysitting?"

Edward and I ask this simultaneously, unable to hide our slight trepidation. Mike, Jasper's eldest son from his first marriage to Maria – a really great woman, by the way, and a good friend of Alice's and me – is a bit on the…how can I phrase this delicately…irresponsible fuck side.

"I know what you're thinking," Alice smirks, because Mikey's irresponsible fuck ways are no secret, "but marrying Jess has done wonders for Mike."

Jasper snorts. "It sure has. Otherwise, big brother or not, Al and I would've never trusted him with Sammy tonight, especially with her right in the heart of those terrible twos."

"That's great," I say genuinely. "Good for him. Good for both of them."

"And can you believe they're _trying_?" Alice grins.

"Wow," I breathe, my eyes widening at that one. "Oh my God. Jasper's going to be a granddaddy and you're going to be a step-grandma. Hah!"

"Just because they're trying doesn't mean their attempts are going anywhere just yet," Jasper says. "Besides, I don't know if I'm ready to be a granddad."

"Well, it's not up to you, Jasper, is it? You have absolutely no control about when you'll be a grandpa. Hah!" I repeat. "Sucks to be you."

I admit I await his comeback with some eagerness, because yes, yes; verbally sparring with Jasper is one of my favorite California pastimes. He'll likely reply with something along the lines of what a handsome granddad he'll make regardless of when those grandkids arrive, and I'll probably retort with something like, 'You would've had to have been a good-looking dad before you could be a good-looking grandpa, and that ship has sailed.'

I like it.

The seconds pass. I mentally adjust the wording of my retort a couple of times. I even come up with a couple of different scenarios. All the while, Jasper simply holds my gaze, his mouth slowly lifting at the corners. When they're done rising, the result is one of those lazy, evil, Joker-type grins. And that's it.

Strange. I'm not used to him allowing me the last jab. Then again, I'm totally right here about him not having any control over Mike's procreation plans. So really, there's nothing he can counter with. I've finally shut him up.

Still, that grin makes me nervous.

"Hey, look who's approaching," he points out instead, that impish grin widening all the more.

I follow his gaze only to spot Tanya Dennis aka Edward's ex-wife aka Baby Mamma making her way toward us like she's walking the Red Carpet.

"Fuck," Edward spits under his breath.

"As much as I'd love to stick around and witness what I'm sure will be an epic exchange between you and Edward's Baby Mamma," Alice grins, "I'm going to go find my parents. Come on, Jasper."

"But I want to see this," Jasper says.

"Let's go."

With one, final, evil chuckle my way, Jasper complies and follows Alice.

I won't rehash my issues with Tanya Dennis as they relate to Edward, because they're old issues and it's pointless. He and I have worked through them. Nonetheless, I'm only human, and I can't deny that a lingering bit of resentment will likely always remain in that quarter.

However, I know… _I know_ I have no right to begrudge her the relationship she's trying to develop with not only her son but with my daughter – who's now her daughter-in-law. I assume this mutual relationship-building effort explains why she's here tonight, at _my_ surprise birthday party. At my surprise _forty-fifth_ birthday party.

Though she's a couple of years older than me, the woman is as stunning today as she was almost three decades ago, when she first became the bane of my existence. I've never seen a gray in her long, strawberry-blond hair. Then again, I'm sure she's never seen one in my hair either, but that's because my hairdresser and I have a standing, monthly appointment that not even an act of God shall cancel. She has no wrinkles, but I've heard Botox does that for you. And as she sashays over in a black, sequined, form fitting dress, I'm woman enough to admit she looks amazing. But the bitch in me wonders whether its Spanx or a plastic surgeon she's gotta thank for that bod.

On the heels of that admittedly catty thought, I remember last night, when Edward and I were making love. At one point, when he bit my waist, I could've sworn he pulled away with a bit more skin between his teeth than usual. At the time, I didn't think much of it because…well, because we were making love. But now…

These damn Spawns and their shitty Guest List.

"Bella."

While I've been musing, Baby Mamma has reached us. She moves in and offers me a Judas-like air-kiss.

"Happy Birthday," she says dryly as she pulls back. "You look good. You really do. And that's a cute-looking dress." Her tone, however, says, _'You don't look good. You really don't. And that's a shit-looking dress.'_

"Aw, thanks, Tanya." I smile sweetly. "That means a lot coming from you. I only hope I can look half as good as you when I'm your age."

"Well, one can _always_ hope." She smiles back just as sweetly.

Touché, Tanya. Touché.

Edward, however, has never been one to mince words with his ex. "Tanya, what are you doing here?"

"Why, hello to you too, Edward. And what do you mean what am I doing here? Our son invited his grandparents and me."

"And you accepted the invitation because…?" he further prompts.

"Because Anthony is my son, and Vanessa is my daughter-in-law, and they obviously enjoy and desire my company."

She says this as if it should be plainly obvious. Nevertheless, Edward snorts sardonically.

"Yeah, and it just so happens that _your_ enjoyment of their company has been in direct correlation with Anthony's growing affection for Bella."

See? He doesn't mince words.

"Ugh, whatever." Tanya rolls her eyes in obvious exasperation. "You know, Edward, there's no making you happy. For years, you bitched at me for not having a closer relationship with our son. Now that I'm trying to nurture one, you bitch about that." Her eyes shift to me. "Bella, I sure as hell hope you've been more successful than I at understanding my ex-husband's whims." Here, she shoots me another sweet smile.

"Tanya, you're the one who's always a-"

Before my husband can finish that no-no sentence, I lay a hand on his chest.

Then, I draw in a silent breath and ignore the almost overwhelming urge to remind Tanya that Edward is now _my_ husband, and Anthony is _my_ son-in-law slash stepson. Because that's what she wants. She's a high-powered attorney – the sort who knows just where to hit you, and who thrives on back-and-forth arguments. Throughout the few years in which I've been forced to reconnect with her, I've learned that the best way to deal with Tanya Dennis, Esquire, is by keeping things short, simple, and direct.

Therefore, when I reply, it's without a hint of sarcasm – as difficult as that is for me.

"Tanya, what concerns Edward is that this nurturing of a relationship between you and Anthony may turn out to be _your_ whim, and that once you've established that relationship, you'll grow bored."

She's scoffs. "That's the type of nonsensical argument which would never hold up in court."

"You're probably right, and you'd definitely know that better than me," I acknowledge with a nod. "But this isn't court, Tanya. Edward and I have been Anthony and Nessie's primary caregivers, respectively, for over two decades, and we aren't always sensible when it comes to them. Even though they're both adults now, and married, sometimes we still see them as kids whose hearts need protection from those we don't quite trust yet."

As I'm speaking, my gaze sweeps over to where Ness and Anthony stand a few yards away, talking and laughing with a handful of guests. Still holding hands. For a split second, I see Ness in pigtails and giggling. My gaze moves slightly over to Anthony, and I picture him as he would've looked as a little boy. An irrepressible smile lifts the corners of my mouth.

"That being said, you're a parent here just as much as we are, and you have every right to establish a relationship with Anthony, and Ness for that matter. And if Edward's concerns turn out to be unfounded, I guarantee you, we'll _both_ be overjoyed about that."

Tanya stares at me. "Enjoy your party, Isabella," she says after a few moments.

"Thanks, Tanya. Feel free to enjoy my party too."

With another hard stare, she walks away, shaking an unfairly firm ass. Thankfully, when I look back at Edward, his gaze is on me, and he offers me a tender smile as his arms wind around my waist.

"See?" he kisses me softly. "Words of wisdom."

"Well, she definitely makes me work for them. And I had to say _something_ before you stuck your foot in your mouth."

Edward snorts. "What did you think I was going to call her?" He quirks an eyebrow. "I'm an enlightened man. I know better." We both start laughing, but then, Edward sighs. "Still doesn't explain why Ness finally called me 'Pop.'"

"I know."

"Don't start. What happened with the words of wisdom?"

I chuckle softly and brush my lips to his. "We'll figure it out. I promise. But not right now. Let's go…mix and mingle and get this over with."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Have a great weekend! 'See' you sometime in the middle of next week. ;)**

 **Patty**


	4. Ch 3 The Pop Thing Begins to Make Sense

**A/N: Good afternoon! Just got back from vacation yesterday, and I wanted to get this out to you guys asap, so please forgive any and all mistakes!**

 **Also, I'm going to go back and reply to all you guys' wonderful thoughts! I'm beyond honored by how well you guys have received this little continued peek into the lives of Bakerella, the Spawn, Nessie, and of course, Edward.**

 **There's a short Q &A at the end of the chapter, IF you're interested. If not, skip it. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Ahh. Now, the 'Pop' thing Begins to Make Sense.**

 **Edward**

 _She called me 'Pop.'_

It's the thought constantly in the back of my mind while my wife and I mix and mingle. At first, Bella was wary – to say the least – of this surprise party, but as the minutes have worn on, and she's reconnected with old friends and acquaintances, she seems to have mellowed. In turn, that helps me breathe easier. It's one less worry.

 _Because Ness called me 'Pop.'_

See, I know turning forty-five is a tough one for Bella. A grown man or not, part of me will _always_ be selfish with Bella's love, yet the part of me which strives to be a decent and supportive husband gets that I may have been her first love, and I may be her current and last love…but I wasn't her only love. So, her mind is on the age she just reached, an age which Sam didn't reach.

 _And Ness called me 'Pop.'_

Bella hasn't been herself all day; she's been more than her usually sweet, slightly neurotic self. She's been downright uneasy. In Nessie's case, she's dealt with the day when her one remaining biological parent turns forty-five by gathering together almost everyone both women know; everyone who, for better or worse, has played a significant role in either or both of their lives.

 _And she called me 'Pop.'_

So, after spending voluntary and involuntary time with both those we would've invited ourselves as well as with those whose presence we question, Bella is now drinking wine with a couple of her friends, and I'm across the deck with a couple of my friends, enjoying a beer or two and pretending my head isn't a riot.

 _She called me 'Pop.'_

Don't get me wrong; I loved it. For years now, I've considered Ness one of the three people in this world for whom I'd give my life. But she's resisted calling me 'Pop.' So, why now? Why today of all days, on the day when her mother reaches a milestone age her father never reached?

"Hey, Ed, everything good?" Pete asks.

"Yeah, yeah," I nod, returning his bemused smile with an easy grin. "Everything's great."

"Glad to hear it, cuz you look a bit out of it tonight, and I know it's not trouble in paradise." He shakes his head. "Dude, I've never seen a guy – who spent most of his adult life as a single male, mind you – take so _fucking happily_ to being tied down."

Pete and Jasper clink their bottles in agreement, sharing a laugh at my expense. But that's fine. I go ahead and share both the toast and the laughter with them.

"And get this," Jasper says. He drops his voice and leans in as if he's about to share something deep. "Before he married Bella, this guy right here had women buzzin' around him left and right like little bees just dying to be…pollinated by him, if you know what I mean." He emits a raunchy chuckle. "But you think he paid them any mind? I was seriously starting to believe he'd lost his cock sometime in the early Two-thousands."

The fuckers have an epic laugh in my name at that one.

"Assholes, bees don't pollinate _bees_. And by the way, you two are ones to talk. It's not like either of you ever stray far from your wives sharp eyes."

Three sets of eyes sweep over to the other side of the yacht's deck, where Maria, Alice, and my wife are dancing together. By the way, Pete is Maria's husband. Maria is Jasper's ex-wife. Though, it's like the four are just one big, happy family. These two and their respective wives hang out often – dinner with the kids, family events, barbecues, and the like. I gotta say, I commend them, especially Pete. In his place, I don't know that I could be close buddies with my wife's first husband.

And no, I don't need a head shrink poking around my brain to tell me what's going on in there; it's caveman jealousy and possessiveness, pure and simple. Though, our situation is somewhat different. When I once shared these thoughts with my wife, she laughed at me.

' _Edward, you can't dwell on the past, babe, or on that burned batch. You just have to pull yourself out of that oven and…'_

' _And begin again?' I asked, familiar with her refrain._

' _Yes. You begin again. And sometimes, you begin again and again.'_

' _Bella, I'll agree with your belief system up to a point, because_ _ **you**_ _can definitely begin again and again as many times as you want, but I'll be along for the ride at every new inception. See, I prefer to see things more as…a new phase of our mutual lives beginning every day.'_

' _A new phase of our mutual lives begins every day,' she echoed. 'Hey, I like that. I like that a lot. It fits because I do plan to tug you along with me for every new ride.'_

So, that's our joint philosophy here in California. Ever since Bella walked back into my life, every phase has been extraordinary. It doesn't mean it's been paradise, not in the way Pete likes to tease. We have both good and bad days. But Bella is involved in every moment, in every phase. What more can I ask for?

As these profound yet admittedly somewhat drunken thoughts run through my head, a vague recollection flashes through my mind. It's a foggy memory of a guy I once met in a packed, chaotic toy store in…L.A.…New York City? Was it one of the first times I took Anthony on a business trip? Around a holiday…Fourth of July…Christmas? Obviously, the memory has been dulled by time, but I can hear the guy's voice, somewhat muffled in its replay, something regarding ups and downs in marriage…

"That's what I thought too. How about you, Ed?"

I blink out of the haze of drunken retrospection. "Sorry, Pete; I got distracted. What were you- oh shit!"

Someone claps me on the shoulder – hard – and as I jerk forward, most of what remains in my bottle ends up on Pete.

"Shit. Pete, I'm sorry, man," I say as we both reach to clean off the mess on his shirt.

"S'alright, Ed," he chuckles, "don't sweat it. It's just beer."

Meanwhile, someone behind me is really enjoying this shit.

"Edward, my boy, that little tap I gave you sure as hell shouldn't have caused that much mayhem! My son would've never lost his footing that easily! Someone young as you should be in a lot better shape!"

I expel a quiet sigh before turning around because I recognize the voice.

Max Laurent is a tall, brawny man, who carries himself well for an octogenarian. Bella and I attended his eightieth birthday party just last year, one of the few flights we've taken to New York since our move to Newport Beach. Alice, Jasper, and the kids accompanied us because Max and Judith are Alice's parents _and_ they're Nessie's grandparents…and they were once my wife's in-laws. Judith Laurent is a sweet lady, but conversation with Max can be…tedious.

He's also one of those men who's every spoken sentence is punctuated with an exclamation.

I stretch out a hand to him. "Hey, Max. Enjoying the party so far?"

"Sure, sure! 'Least I can hold my liquor better than you!" His last couple of words emerge seriously strained due to the grip he's got on our handshake. "It's them Norse genes! We're Vikings!" he shouts, smacking his open palm against his chest. "Takes a lot more than a little tap on the shoulder to knock down a Laurent!"

I catch Bella's eye. She's noticed her ex-father-in-law's approach, and I can tell she's watching the exchange with a touch of sympathy mixed with a whole lot of mirth. When she raises an eyebrow my way, ready to come to my rescue, I shake my head imperceptibly.

Pete taps my shoulder. "Ed, I'm going to see if I can find some seltzer for this."

"Alright, Pete. We'll catch up in a few. And I'm really sorry."

"No problem," he assures me, chuckling before he leans in and whispers, "and good luck with Thor."

"You should've seen my Sam!" Max continues. " _There_ was a man could hold his liquor, be it beer, wine, whiskey, you name it! Just ask Bella; she'll tell ya! Then again, Sam was six-foot-four inches of pure muscle!"

"So, how's New York, Max?" I ask, attempting to change the subject.

"Good, good! Life in New York keeps you hard as concrete!" Another smack to his chest. "Go ahead, Ed; hit me right there and see if I stumble!"

"I'd rather not, Max, but thanks."

He purses his lips, shaking his head in undisguised disgust. "Yeah; New York. They ain't kidding when they say if you can't make it there, you can't make it anywhere."

"That's not what they say, Max."

"New York! It ain't like this sunny, West Coast nonsense! Good weather day in and day out! Swaying palm trees! Beaches! Relaxation!" Every one of those points, which most people would consider pros to California living, is spat by Max as if it's a curse. He casts his old gaze around the darkened landscape and scowls. "I'm telling you, this place softens you up!"

My eyes narrow as a sudden sense of déjà vu hits me like an abrupt gust of wind.

"Well?" Max howls.

"Sorry, Max; I'm a bit buzzed. What were you saying?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Buzzed after only three or four beers? That's pansy nonsense! I'm telling you; it's the West Coast doing it to ya," he warns. "What I was saying, the question I asked, is how has this West Coast business affected my girls – my Alice, my Bella, my Nessie, and my Sammy?"

Before I can remind him that Bella is no longer _his girl_ , Jasper clears his throat and finally cuts in. I mean, the guy is _his_ father-in-law.

"Max, Al and Sammy are doing great. And I know you're upset we didn't bring Sammy tonight, but you'll see her tomorrow when you stop by the house before your flight home."

While Jasper continues the run down on Sammy's growth and milestones, I attempt to calm myself enough so that I can recapture the strange…something that abruptly washed over me - a reminder, a memory. But….I'm too buzzed, like a pansy. And it's gone.

When Jasper completes the fatherly bragging bit, Max turns his hardcore gaze back on me, waiting.

"Max," I say, throwing up a hand, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that Ness and Bella are doing great. You can see for yourself." I gesture in Bella's direction. "And Nessie and my son are around here somewhere as well, glowing, and as happy as newlyweds can be."

"Yes, yes. I suppose both Bella and Nessie look wonderful." The old bastard mutters this pretty begrudgingly. "They all look wonderful, but then again, three of them carry those Laurent genes, so what can one expect? And Bella…well, Bella was married to Sam so long she's an honorary Laurent." When the fucker turns his gaze toward my wife, it's with so much undeniable affection it makes it hard for me to curse him out. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think this was her and my Sam's wedding reception over a quarter of a century ago."

Yep. That does it.

"Now, hold on, Max," I say, "there's a line-"

Jasper cuts me off in a frenzied rush. "Hey, Max, did you and Judy get those digital prints Ally and I sent you of Sammy with Mickey at Disney?"

The genuine grin which overspreads Max's wrinkled face almost makes me forget what an old bastard he can be.

"We sure did, Jasper, but I'll confess, we had a bit of a hard time at first." He lays a thick hand on Jasper's shoulder – _not_ in the manner he did to me earlier as if he wanted to knock me the fuck out. However, this time, when Max chuckles, there's an unfamiliar edge of self-consciousness in it. "Judy and I…well, sometimes, this digital nonsense goes right over our heads. Whoosh!" He waves a hand high over his white-haired head. "Sam used to help us, but…well, Judy and I got the hang of it. Pulled up all those pictures, and we even…what's the word? _Uploaded_?"

"Yeah," I grin softly. "Uploaded is the right word."

"Max, you could've given Al or me a call. We would've helped you out," Jasper says.

"Yeah, I know." He dismisses Jasper's offer. "But you two have a toddler demanding all your time. I'm not so old I don't remember what that was like."

"Hey, Max, if you ever need help uploading, downloading, or…anything, you can give Bella or me a call. We'd be happy to help."

The old man shoots what I believe is the first genuine grin he's ever directed at me, and my chest tightens. Poor, old guy. I'll be that age someday, and I sure as hell hope I never again have to know I outlived one of my kids.

"Thanks, son. I may just take you up on that. My God, but that Sammy's a beauty, ain't she?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she is," I agree with a smile.

Max's gaze takes on one of those glazed, wistful expressions. When his voice quivers, I completely forget his asshole-ish behavior. He's just a father and a grandfather.

"She looks just like my Ally at that age. Jasper, you and Ally sure made one of the sweetest little girls ever."

"They did," I concur.

"Thanks, guys," Jasper says.

"You know the only other couple who ever made a baby could equal Sammy's beauty? Bella and our Sam. I'm telling you, it's our genes!"

For one, long second, I just stare at the old geezer. All the while, Jasper makes a poor attempt at clamping down on his bubbling laughter.

"You're right, Max. Ness and Sammy are both amazing girls. But as for that being _solely_ due to Laurent genes…?" I shake my head. "Sorry, but I can't agree with that. My wife's genes deserve a fair share of credit for Ness's personality, and I can see a whole lot of Jasper in Sammy's personality." I clap both his and Jasper's shoulders. "As much as I'm enjoying this conversation, I'm ready to find my wife. Max, good seeing you, as always. Take care of yourself and Judy."

As soon as Bella sees me pull away, she breaks off from her group. As we make our way toward one another, it's the expression on her face, the love reflected in her eyes which reminds me of why I allow Max Laurent so much leeway, why the man is more than entitled to his memories of those days when his son was young, strong, and the luckiest guy in the world.

Bella and I have a tree planted in our back yard in dedication to our son, a baby boy who never took his first breath – Anthony Edward Masen – who'll forever be safe and remembered in the hearts and minds of his parents if no one else. And he never even came into the world. Max Laurent has almost forty-five-years-worth of memories of Sam, a flesh-and-blood son he held in his arms.

' _You sound like you really lucked out…'_

'… _our family's genes…'_

I freeze in my tracks, halted by the ghost of another translucent memory. For a moment, as I stand there, the milky haze begins to dissipate…

But Bella reaches out for me as if she simply can't wait the fraction of a second longer it'll take until we've closed the distance between us. When her hand slips into mine, and she knits our fingers together, I exhale a long breath, and…and I forget whatever else was going through my head.

"I missed you," I smile.

She chuckles. "Edward, I was in your periphery the entire time, shaking my ass and gettin' down with Pearl Jam. Did you see me?" She starts dancing by herself to nonexistent music. "I've still got it."

"Oh, you most definitely do."

When she stops, her hand cups my cheek. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. But you know Max."

"Oh, I know Max." She grins ruefully. "Those Laurent genes again?"

"Yeah," I say, slipping my arms around her waist. In turn, Bella slides her arms around my shoulders. "Ahh," I exhale, "now, everything is almost just right."

"Still wondering why Ness called you 'Pop?'"

"Oh, yeah."

No, we don't rehash the past more than necessary. We'd rather spend our time focused on the here and now. In the here and now, _I'm_ the luckiest bastard in the world.

One of those old love ballads begins playing. Bella and I start swaying to it slowly. I recognize the song from back when I was in my early thirties or so – a divorced man, raising a son, going about my life in the car while driving Anthony from one sport to another, or in the garage, or prepping a pretty shitty meal…or alone in bed. I'd hear these lyrics, and my thoughts would drift. The song was a timeline of a guy's life progressing from a teenaged kid in love, to a man with a family and responsibilities, to a middle-aged man at the crossroads of life, and finally…at age ninety-nine, begging for just one more moment.

Life got busy; it got real, and I didn't always dwell on her. But it was in those in-between moments when I'd wonder.

Bella and I sway back and forth.

"I still have no clue, but I get the feeling Alice knows something. She can't meet my eyes, and that's unusual. Usually, that one is as straightforward as they come."

"Strange," I say.

"Mm," she murmurs. "Oh, and Maria says we act like teenagers in love."

I snort. "Her husband said something similar. They're wrong though."

She smiles up at me. "I wouldn't mind pretending we're teenagers."

I chuckle softly. "See, when I was a teenager, I didn't know _how_ to be in love – not the real kind. I did it wrong; so this right here," I squeeze her slim waist between my hands and give her a quick dip, making her squeal, "this is so much better. Bella, I'm forty-eight, and today, you're forty-five, and you told me I was full of crap when I said this earlier, but it's true: You look even better today than on that day I stood behind you on a high school lunch line, checking out your tight ass in those Jordache jeans, and so worked up I finally managed the nerve to ask you to the movies."

She laughs and laughs. "You are so totally full of crap because I _never_ wore Jordache jeans."

I halt our swaying and my eyebrows furrow. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me…that sweet ass in those Jordache jeans wasn't yours? Holy shit, I asked out the wrong girl."

"Now, you're just _being_ an ass." She smacks my chest so hard even Max would be proud. And as she pretends to fight me off, I roar heartily and envelop her in my arms, trying to steal a kiss. When she relents, we resume our dance.

"My point is, Bella, I know it's not your age that's had you moaning all day."

"I haven't been moaning all day," she grumbles.

"You've been moaning about your age since the moment you woke up this morning."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have, babe. You moaned all morning."

Bella quirks an eyebrow and lifts herself up on the front of those red-bottomed shoes of hers so that her soft lips graze my earlobe as she murmurs.

"Edward, you woke me by skimming kisses from my forehead to my mouth to my neck…to my breasts…and further down to between my legs." When she pulls back, her eyes sparkle with mischief. "My age wasn't why I woke up moaning."

I swallow thickly before groaning. "God, trying to hold a semi-serious conversation with you when you're in one of these mouthy moods…it's a damn struggle."

She gives me a somewhat sheepish grin. "I'm sorry. Please continue. I promise I'll behave."

"Here's what I'm trying to tell you, Mrs. Masen, and then you can return to your adorably-smart-mouthed manner." I cradle her face between my hands and still our movements. "I'm man enough now to trust in our love in a way I didn't when we were younger, and I know that while you'll always treasure your time and your marriage to Sam, _I'm_ your husband now, and _I_ own her heart."

"You do," she says, her voice quivering slightly, dark eyes glassy. "You do own my heart. That's why I don't want you to think-"

"That's the thing, Bella; I don't. Feel whatever you need to feel, okay? I'll still be here." I smile at her, squeezing her head playfully between my hands. "My maddening girl."

She nods slowly, eyes still on mine.

"Our kids wanted to distract you with this party."

"I know they did," she smiles, "and I love them for it, I do – in spite of the shitty guest list."

"Bella, anything meant to celebrate you, anything that makes you smile, that lights up this beautiful face, that's all I want. It's why I buy you those shoes," I smirk. "So, we can leave right now, if that's what'll make you happy. We greeted everyone, now we can make our excuses and go home. Leave the crazies to Ness and Anthony to deal with."

She palms my cheek. "Thank you for always being so understanding, and it sounds tempting, but no," she smiles. "I'm fine with staying. Really. Now, can I resume my smart mouth?"

"Go ahead," I snort.

"Good, so I'll remind you that you buy me these shoes because you like how the heels look when my legs are up in the air and around your thighs."

"Jesus," I groan. "You're going to give me a hard-on in front of everyone."

"That's what you get for calling me a smart-mouth."

"I said _adorably_ smart-mouthed," I correct, tapping her nose with my finger, and shaking my head. But then, a slow grin spreads across my face, and I lean into her ear. "Actually, Birthday girl, if you really want to act like misbehaved, reckless teens, I've got an idea."

"What is it?"

"Have you ever made love on a yacht?"

Her long hair hides my mouth from view as I suck on her earlobe, and I hear her quiet intake of breath.

"No. Not _yet_."

"Mmm," I reply, running my tongue along the back of her ear. "Sounds like you might want to?"

Bella pulls back and holds my gaze. In my periphery, I see the flush which spreads past her collarbone, the way her chest rises and falls.

"The boat is packed, Edward. We'd never get away with it." Those are her words, but I recognize the tone. It's the same tone she used the first time I suggested making love in our pool.

"It would be dicey. We'd have to find a quiet corner…"

I cast my gaze around the yacht, pull her along, inspecting possibilities, but she's right. There's not one, single, solitary corner - literally. Ness and Anthony appear to have invited everyone they know from coast to coast. My shoulders sag.

Then, my eyes land on a rectangular sticker sign on a wall a few yards away. The sign has an arrow indicating the staircase leading below deck. It also has a drawing of a stick figure tumbling down those steps and landing on its head. The words above the unfortunate stick figure read, 'WATCH YOUR STEP!' The staircase itself is cordoned off with a red rope, on which is affixed yet another big sign, this one stating, 'NO PASSENGERS ALLOWED BELOW DECK' in large, uppercase font.

A crooked grin spreads across my face. When I gesture with my jaw toward the staircase, Bella's eyes follow its trajectory. She smiles impishly in understanding, swallowing as she turns her eyes back to me.

"What if someone comes downstairs?"

Cupping her gorgeous face in my hands, I lean in close to her. " _That's_ the idea."

When I pull away, I can't help smiling at the expression on her face. Sometimes, she still looks like that innocent teenager I once fell in love with.

"We'll have to be quick. There won't be time to remove clothes. I'm just gonna push you against the wall, drop my pants, and lift your skirt."

"Oh God, Edward. And I'm gonna wrap my legs around your hips, and dig these Red Bottoms into your ass."

Or maybe not so innocent.

"Let's go."

Weaving our fingers together, I swiftly lead her from the dance floor toward the off-limits staircase, praying to every sort of deity that everyone's too distracted with talking, dancing, and getting drunk to notice us. We keep our heads down as we cross the floor. When we reach the staircase, I perform a hasty and surreptitious inspection of our surroundings before unfastening one end of the rope from the hook on the wall.

Bella chuckles impishly. "This is exactly like misbehaved teenagers. I love it!"

"Come on, my love." I guide Bella halfway down the steps and turn around quickly to refasten the rope to the hook. "I'm dying to hold you up against that wall so I can fu-"

Suddenly, the band stops playing. Over the microphone, a female throat clears.

"Mom? Pop? Where are you guys?"

My hand freezes mid-air, with one side of the off-limits rope held up as if I'm showcasing it to the room, and Bella and I on the wrong side of that off-limits rope.

"We're…here?" Bella replies weakly, waving a hand as if she can't decide whether she wants to be found or not.

However, Nessie does locate us, pretty easily. "Where are you two going? The sign says, 'No Passengers Allowed Below Deck.'" Her head tilts sideways. "What are you headed down there for?"

In my daughter-in-law/stepdaughter's defense, as she asks this over the microphone, she's obviously thinking out loud. Meanwhile, as I cast my gaze around the yacht, I find every single pair of eyes on us. And also, I'm still holding up the forbidden rope.

"Uhhm…" Bella says.

"You see…" I say.

Quiet snickers erupt from every corner of the boat.

"…fool around…and she thinks I'm slutty…"

"…just like horny, teenaged bees…wish we would've thought of that…"

"…pansy…my Sam would've never gotten caught…"

While Bella and I stand around on fire, in more ways than one, another throat clears next to Ness.

"Mom, Dad, I guess you guys missed it, but there's a bathroom up here," Anthony says, gesturing with his thumb behind him.

"Oh. O-kay," I say. "Thanks."

The heckling is much more overt now.

"Bathroom, my ass. Those two were gonna fu-"

"Jasper, stop it!"

When my eyes meet my son's, he smirks. "Either way, can you guys hold it…in, for just a few minutes? Ness and I have something we'd like to share."

Once Anthony has managed to divert some of the attention away from us, I lead my wife back up the steps. Bella leans into my shoulder.

"Remind me never to plan a quickie with you while we're both drunk _and_ surrounded by a boatful of nosy fuckers."

I brush my lips against her temple and chuckle. "Deal."

All the while, Anthony and Ness are on stage whispering with one another – away from the microphones this time, because God forbid anyone knows _their_ business. Finally, they come to some sort of agreement and shoot one another smiles before turning back to the assembled audience.

And now that my attention is completely on them, and that the pansy effects of the beers have begun to wane, I see, even from this distance, how they're both shaking. Scratch that; they're _vibrating_.

For a fraction of a second, my heart stops, and I'm enveloped in the most massive and inexplicable sense of fear. I suppose it's all the thoughts of Sam's mortality surrounding us today. Until I also note the wide grins across both our kids' faces. There's excitement in their eyes, much like the excitement surrounding Nessie earlier when she…when she called me 'Pop.'

She called me ' _Pop_.'

Ahhh.

Oh, fuck.

"Everyone, my wife…Nessie and I…we have an announcement to make."

"Holy hell," I breathe, but it's all I manage because I have no idea how my wife is going to take this. Shit. My wife. My eyes shift to Bella, and when I see those two little lines marring the space between her brows indicating that my usually quick-as-hell wife is still confused, my heart constricts for her.

 _Damn it, kids. Why today?_

"Edward…what's…?"

"Bella," I whisper, smiling at her before she jumps to the wrong conclusions, "it's okay. I promise you; it's okay."

Still anxious, she turns her gaze back to the stage…to our children and gives my hand a massive squeeze.

Meanwhile, after Anthony manages nothing more than a few false starts, Nessie laughs at him and steals back the microphone.

"Here, let me give it a try. Mom and Pop," she grins, "I want to make sure you two are both paying close attention here because your lives are about to change, along with Anthony's and mine, all over again."

"Oh, my God." Bella's voice breaks. She sucks in a sharp breath and clasps a hand over her mouth. I try to reassure her, but all her attention is focused on Nessie. She won't even glance at me.

"Alright, well, friends and family, we invited you all here to celebrate my mom's birthday, because she's forty-five today, and…and it's a bit of a hard day for her, for a variety of reasons." A tear rolls down Nessie's cheek, and the boat suddenly goes unbelievably silent. "I tried to think of the best time to tell you, Mommy, and I almost broke down and told you so many times," she cries, but she's smiling. "But I wanted Pop next to you, and I wanted everyone around us because I want you to _see_ how special you are. Mom…your reaching forty-five is the _best thing in the world_ , and when you're forty-six, that'll be even better. And Dad is looking down at all of us right now, _all of us,_ " – here, Nessie's eyes meet mine – "and he's smiling. It took me a bit to see that, but…anyway, today, Anthony and I wanted to celebrate life, and in that vein…" she reaches for Anthony's hand, "Mom, Pop, and Tanya, we're having a baby. You're all about to be grandparents."

Cheers, screams, and laughter, erupt all around us. I have no idea where Tanya is, nor do I care.

Bella is…strangely silent, her eyes still on our kids. So, when Nessie jumps off the stage and bypasses all well-wishers to rush to her mother, I have no clue what's going through my wife's mind. Either way, Ness throws her arms around her mother, and Bella holds her tight.

"Mom, Pop…" Ness whispers in a rush, "Anthony and I haven't forgotten our brother." She takes both our entwined hands and lays them on her flat stomach. "Meet Tony or Toni."

A/N: Thoughts?

* * *

 **Below are the answers to a few questions/comments which have come up more than once in various reviews, so I figured I'd address them in my A/N: *If you'd rather not have anything answered before reading, please skip!**

 **Otherwise:**

 **Q: Will there be angst in this story? I'm afraid to begin it without knowing one way or the other.**

 **A: Hi. It's me. So, yeah, there will be some angst. Small. Tiny. HOWEVER, Ed and Bella worked out their hardcore relationship issues in Begin Again. Whatever angst may or may not arise won't necessarily be between them. Don't worry too much. :)**

 **Q: How could Edward have met Sam and not realize it was Sam later on after he reconnected with Bella?**

 **A: I know there are people who instantly remember and recognize every single person they've ever met. But there are also people who don't, especially if it was one, quick conversation, which occurred in a busy and hectic environment, almost twenty years ago. The way I see it, in Ed's memory, he recalls that particular scene vaguely – some tall, blond guy he spoke to once, and the guy's very pretty daughter. In my head, looking at Sam's pics and/or Nessie's pics from that time period won't stir up much because he only met them once, and for a short period. Anthony and Ness would recall even less, having been so young, ten and seven, respectively. Anyway, that's how I see it.**

 **Q: Will Ed/Anthony/Ness EVER realize they met in the past?**

 **A: For THAT, we'll have to wait and see. ;)**

 **If I didn't address your particular question here, I'll be going through reviews now, and I'll get back to you asap!**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

' **See' you guys tomorrow!**


	5. Ch4 I Bottled Stuff Up Like I was Pepsi

**A/N: Thoughts? It's late evening here in NJ! Nevertheless, I'm updating because I promised three updates a week, and I have to update tonight to keep that promise! ;)**

 **There were plenty of thoughts on the previous chapter regarding Ness and Anthony's decision on how to announce their news. It shall be addressed (at some point). ;)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes belong to me as well.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – Afterward, I Bottled Up Stuff Like I was Pepsi**

 **Two weeks later:**

Rush hour traffic is one of the few, undeniable cons to life in California, and it's a biggie. Having lived in New York for two decades, one would think I'd be accustomed to freeway congestion. Trust me, when it comes to traffic, New York City has nothing on L.A. County.

For one, here they call their roads _freeways_ as opposed to _highways_ – a sadistic joke if I ever heard one because there's nothing freeway-ish about traveling these roads. Second, while New York City's population is similar in size to L.A.'s, in NYC, both the population and its accompanying traffic are squeezed into a manageable three hundred square miles. No matter the congestion, you can't possibly get stuck in it for that long, even if it does feel like an eternity. L.A. County, however, covers over _four-thousand square miles._ When you're stuck in that, there isn't a fucking swaying palm tree around big enough to make up for it.

Afternoon glare envelops the motor vehicles, hampering visibility and halting the already slow flow to an almost standstill. Sighing, I rest my elbow on the window sill and surrender my head into my hand, all the while resisting the urge to uselessly honk the shit out of my horn.

The double beep indicating I've received a text message resounds over the blue-tooth speakers, interrupting my boredom. Now, normally, I'd ignore the text until I arrive home, but it's not as if I'm moving and/or a danger to myself or anyone at the moment. Therefore, I ask Siri to read the message out to me.

 **Hey, babe. Hope the meeting went well. I see you guys are stuck in traffic.**

"Siri, text Edward, please."

"What would you like me to text Edward?"

 **The meeting went great but hectic, traffic is hell, and I'm alone in the car. Alice stayed behind to visit Jasper's parents. He's supposed to pick her up with Sammy later.**

 **Ah, okay. Just wanted to let you know I'm making us dinner, and I've got a bottle of wine with your name on it waiting on ice. Just relax, and I'll take care of you when you get home. And if you're texting this much, it better be with Siri's help.**

I'm telling you, the guy knows me too well. The next sigh I expel is full of warmth and yes, relaxation.

 **LOL. Siri is doing all the texting. Promise. Edward, what would I do without you?**

It barely takes a half minute for his reply to beep in.

 **Without me, you might eat better. I said I made dinner; I didn't say it would be edible. But other than that, I have no clue what you'd do without me. We can discuss that and the meeting when you're home. Focus on driving.**

 **It's L.A. I'm barely moving. Even in my red bottoms, I could walk home quicker.**

 **Are you wearing a pair of your red-bottomed shoes? Interesting…**

Another text beeps in on the heels of that one.

 **Never mind. Don't answer that. Just focus on driving.**

 **LOL. Don't you want a sexting threesome with Siri? Don't answer THAT! One more thing, Mr. Masen. Have you spoken with Anthony or Ness?**

 **No, babe. I was stuck in meetings myself today, which is why I didn't go into LA with you. I'm sure everything's fine or they would've reached out. I'll text them now, and we can touch base when you're home. NOW ALL ATTENTION ON THE ROAD, PLEASE. Love you.**

 **Okay. Love you, too.**

"Siri, text Nessie, please."

"What would you like me to text Nessie?"

 **Hey, baby. How do you feel? Did the ginger tea help?**

As I await Nessie's reply, the sun's glare abruptly disappears. My fellow freewayers and I take immediate action and slam down on our gas pedals like our collective asses are on fire.

"Thank goodness," I sigh.

Honestly, I'm mentally drained, both from today's meetings and from all the developments since…since my forty-fifth birthday. All I want to do is take a dip in the pool with my husband while sipping on wine, and then let him take care of me any way he wants – and based on that red-bottomed question, I've got a pretty good idea of what _that_ is.

See, originally this morning, Anthony was supposed to drive to L.A. with Alice and me, but Ness woke up with the infamous First Day of Morning Sickness Syndrome. When we arrived to pick up Anthony, he and Ness were in the midst of a session of "Anthony, go; I'll be fine," followed by "Okay, but you'll call me right away if it gets worse, right?"

This went back and forth for about fifteen minutes before I made an executive decision.

The truth is, married and knocked up or not, Ness is still _my_ baby. I didn't want her alone on the First Day of Morning Sickness, either. So, I made her my own special recipe of ginger tea, handed down from generation to generation, and Alice and I left them to it.

Have I mentioned yet that Anthony Masen and I are business partners? As such, even before the news of two weeks ago broke, there were already a few strings tying together the younger Mr. Masen and me.

While Nessie runs Swan Bellies here in California, Anthony Robert Masen is both her partner and mine in SB and in TufBaby Organics. The latter is our newest venture, a boutique line of hand-crafted baby food products in the Southern California market. We've kept the business small and concentrated, just as I initially did with Swan Bellies when I lived in New York City.

Nevertheless, between SB and TB, we have a staff of about one hundred and fifty full-time employees. We serve a well-defined clientele with well-defined, focused products. TB is a smaller line than SB, for now. Like SB, however, TB is crafted in a kitchen, not in a factory, and its products are sold in hand-picked stores and markets. Every week, we offer a new baby food product, crafted daily. We have a small, in-house department, which handles our marketing and advertising. Distribution for both SB and TB is, of course, handled by Edward and Jasper.

Now, with the success of both SB and TB, in the past few months, we've been working with an L.A. based law firm, in conjunction with Alice, on all the legal intricacies involved with developing an umbrella company, which will encompass both Swan Bellies and TufBaby - henceforth, _The Masen Craft Company_ , with none other than Isabella Masen as CEO and founder, Anthony Masen as COO, and Vanessa Masen as CFO.

And that's why we were in L.A. today.

Anyway, even beyond the business, Anthony and I spend a lot of time in one another's company. He's my right-hand, little man.

The truth is, it's hard for me to describe my feelings toward Anthony as his mother-in-law slash stepmother because _so_ much more is mixed in there.

Regardless, I make sure he knows _this_ one epically important fact: Anthony Robert Masen is much how I imagine his brother, Anthony Edward Masen, would've been, yet, he's _not_ his brother. He is himself, and as such, he doesn't need to live anyone else's life besides his own. So, when he calls me 'Mom,' I try to keep it in the perspective of mother-in-law slash stepmother; I really do. Unlike Ness with her dad, Anthony has a living, breathing, mom…and she's not me.

The beep indicating a reply resounds through the blue-tooth speakers, and as I maneuver my way into the fastest-moving lane, I ask Siri to read it out to me.

 **Hi, Mom. I feel much better. I didn't take the tea. Tuh-buh-huh, it made the nausea worse. Tanya suggested crackers instead, which worked really well. But thanks for making me that tea, Mom.**

"What the…? And what in the world is a tuh-buh-huh?"

As I pull off at the next exit on the freeway, I'm positive Siri read that line back all kinds of wrong. The impatient drivers behind me slam down hard on their horns. Yes, yes, I suppose they're forced to slam down on their breaks as well since I was all the way on the left lane.

"Maybe all you fuckers shouldn't be Tailgating! Ever heard of the Two-second Rule?" I'm still telling them off as I pull the car over into the first safe spot I find. "Fuckers are all so damn lucky I didn't have my windows down."

Then, I reread the text for myself.

 **Hi, Mom. I feel much better. I didn't take the tea. Tbh, it made the nausea worse. Tanya suggested crackers instead, which worked really well. But thanks for making me that tea, Mom.**

I read it again. And then again.

"What the mother-effin' eff? Since when does Tanya…"

I trail off as my thumbs work furiously over the phone's keypad.

 **What the hell is she doing giving you nausea advice?**

"Fuck, I can't send that." I backspace the entire thing.

 **What the fuck does Tanya know about-**

"Shit, that one's even worse." I delete it even quicker as I strain my brain for a way to ask what I want to ask without sounding like a goddamn maniac.

 **You spoke to Tanya today?**

I cringe in my seat as I hit 'Send,' wondering if I was too subtle, too obvious, or if I hit the right tone. Curious, that's all I am. Simply curious. As I watch the three dots indicating Ness is typing a reply, my heart races.

 **Yep. She checks in every day to see how I'm feeling. Told her about the nausea, and she suggested crackers.**

"Son-of-a…"

 **Ness, screenshot me the entire convo.**

"Damn it!" Obviously, that absolutely screams _Maniac_ and cannot be sent. I dig my thumb into the backspace key and shutting my eyes, I drop my head against the headrest and draw in a few, cleansing breaths.

"Relax, Bella. Relax. She has just as much right here; she has just as much right here." I repeat the litany over and over, just enough times so that I almost, sort of, kind of, and finally, begrudgingly accept it.

My phone beeps again. When I glance down at it, it's with the sort of fear I generally reserve for Stephen King novels.

 **Mom, are you home already? How did the meetings go?**

I exhale through narrowed lips at the innocuous questions.

 **No, I'm not home. The meetings went well. Edward and I can stop by your place later if you're feeling better, so we can all discuss.**

 **I'm fine, Mom. The crackers worked miracles, lol. Just let us know when you guys are on your way. Want me to make dinner?**

 **No, thanks, honey. Edward made dinner already.**

 **Okay. And you better not be texting and driving, young lady! (Sound familiar?) Love you and see you in a few.**

I smile faintly down at the phone.

 **I'm not. Siri is texting for me. And I love you too. See you in a few.**

I hit 'Send' and fling the phone against the dashboard.

OOOOOOOOOO

Late that night, after Edward and I have had our dinner and stopped by the kids' house, we finally take a dip in our pool. The full moon illuminates our backyard. Combined with the blue lights at the bottom of the pool, the entire landscape takes on an almost ethereal glow. In its place of honor, Anthony's Tree sways with the warm breeze. Nirvana plays lowly from the blue-tooth speakers. As Edward and I stand by the ledge, sipping our wine and enjoying the warmth of the water kindled daily by an ever-shining sun, we talk about our day.

"They're so happy," Edward says with a crooked grin.

"They are." I swallow my wine. "You can practically read their thoughts, see those images dancing in their heads of an adorable baby girl or boy, with a cherub's face, whose laughter sounds like that of an angel's, and who smells like baby powder and fresh linens while he or she pouts sweetly in its sleep."

Edward snorts. "Suckers."

"Seriously." I chuckle and shake my head, drawing circles with my finger on the water's surface. "They're going to have a rude awakening."

Edward is quiet for a few seconds. "About a week after Anthony was born, he woke up with a bunch of tiny, white-headed pimples all over his face. We took him to the pediatrician, who called it Newborn Acne and warned us it might get worse before it got better. Tanya broke out into tears."

I can't help laughing. "Seriously? She was worried about _that_?"

"I know," he says quietly. "There are worse things…but you didn't see this kid, Bella. For the first month or so of his life, he honestly looked like a lumpy tomato. God knows I loved him, but he wasn't the best-looking baby," he grins. "I'll admit his less-than-cherub-like appearance kept me awake for a few nights, wondering if he'd ever outgrow it."

My back arches against the pool ledge from the force of my chortles, and I see Edward's eyes on my bikini top. I also see mirth mixed in with that lust.

"Well, he certainly outgrew any ugly-duckling phase, didn't he?"

"Yep. And he grew up to be almost as good-looking as his dad." He grins smugly over the rim of his wine glass.

"Let's be honest, Edward, the Spawn left you far behind a while ago."

When he playfully pouts, I grab his groin underwater, chuckling. "Just kidding, baby. Ness didn't have that. Her skin was pretty perfect from Day One, but she did have a really bad case of reflux, which made her stink of vomit twenty-four seven for the first few months of her life."

Edward throws back his head and chuckles heartily. When he pushes back his wet hair, the moonlight gives it an almost black appearance. Water droplets on his still-tight chest glitter like jewels on what's already a treasure, and the dark line of hair below his navel stands out prominently against his flat abdomen. When he catches me checking him out, his green eyes sparkle impishly.

"No baby-powder-fresh-scent for newborn Nessie?"

For a second, I forget what we were discussing.

"Hell no. Sam and I would try to keep her as still as possible after her feedings, so she wouldn't spit up, but no matter what we did, this baby always had the sharp stench of baby vomit permeating everything around her – her bedroom, her hair, her clothes, her toys. God, it's like one of those scents you never forget," I say, cringing as I shut my eyes and remember the smell. "Like you said, Lord knows I loved her, but sometimes, she smelled downright putrid."

Edward laughs and laughs.

"And was she ever colicky! She cried all hours of the night," I say, exasperation in my tone as I recall all those sleepless nights.

"So was Anthony. Plus, he had a habit of shitting at all hours of the night. No shits during the day, when Tanya was home with him. No. He reserved all his shits for the nighttime hours, which were my shift."

"Ness was constipated, hence the colic. She'd cry all night because she _couldn't_ shit – and then I'd worry about _that_."

"Yep. I remember worrying every time he got sick, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do for him."

"And don't forget all the junk we had to carry around even if we were just going down the block."

"Tons of diapers for Mr. Shitmeister."

"And fifty changes of clothing for Ms. Vomitorium."

Edward and I look at one another and break out into fits of laughter.

"They would friggin' kill us if they knew we were talking so much smack about them," he says, setting down his empty wine glass so he can slide his hands around my waist and pull me close.

I set my glass down as well and wrap my arms around his shoulders. "They would, but they'll get soon enough it's not all fun and games. In the meantime, let's let 'em visualize that perfect, fat, little angel in their future," I say evilly, winking at him.

"Deal." Edward grins tenderly, pushing back a few tendrils of wet hair behind my ear. "Babe…"

"I'm trying to be okay with it," I whisper. "Never mind that I think they're young. That's their business. I've learned to see things your way, Edward, I have; they're adults, and all we can do is be confident we raised them with the right principles. The rest is up to them. Sam used to say something similar. So, if they think they're ready, they're ready."

He smiles softly. "Still, I know you're worried."

"Of course I am." My voice quivers. "Even though I know Ness is being monitored by a perinatologist, just in case, and even though I know my stupid cervix's condition isn't hereditary. But still."

"She's aware, babe," Edward says, brushing back my hair, "in a way you weren't. And science and technology have progressed by leaps and bounds since then, even since you were pregnant with Ness."

"I know, Edward. I know." I hold his gaze and swallow. "In my mind…she would've told me the news differently. She and I would've gone out to lunch or something, or the four of us would've gone out for dinner."

"I don't know why they chose to do it that way either, Bella," Edward says quickly, and I'm so…relieved it's not just me that a half-sob actually escapes me. "Oh, babe." Edward sucks his teeth and pulls me against his warm, wet, and wonderfully hard chest. For a few seconds, he just holds me there. When he pulls me away, it's only enough so that he can look at me as he murmurs softly. "We live in times when everything has to be advertised to the world at large."

"Damn Millennials," I snort.

"Yep," he grins.

"I know," I say with a nod. "I do. If Masen Craft Company is going to be successful, I've got to understand the Millennial mind, even if I don't always _agree_ with it. I've got to set aside my effin' forty-five-year-old thought processes-"

"Hey," Edward growls. He grabs my bikini-bottom-clad ass underwater with both hands and squeezes tight. "There is absolutely nothing old about you, Mrs. Masen. God, look at how tight and plump this ass is." Another squeeze.

I quirk a brow at him. "I'm not talking about my ass."

"Well, I am," he says roughly, squeezing my ass even tighter and pulling it against his hard-on. "I'm talking about your ass, and your mind, and your heart…and absolutely everything about you. You're not old, and your thought processes aren't old. And if they are, so are mine because _I agree with you_. This is family, Bella; not business."

I lift myself up on my tiptoes and look at him, really look at him.

"I wasn't just talking out of my plump ass when I asked Siri to tell you earlier…what would I do without you, Edward?"

"And I wasn't just talking out of mine when I said I didn't know, and I don't plan for either of us to ever find out."

When he presses his lips to mine, I open my mouth for him, our breaths cool in the warm air, his hands cool on my skin as he unties my bottoms, lifts me against him, and pushes himself inside.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **So, something weird is happening with reviews. I received ninety-percent of the reviews to the last chapter as 'Guest Reviews,' even when I could see who they were from! Unfortunately, that meant I couldn't reply to them! (Can't reply to 'Guest' reviews). Not sure why that happened. Does anyone out there know what's going on?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

' **See' you soon!**


	6. Ch 5 I Bold-Faced LIED About My Feelings

**A/N: Another night-time update! Hope you guys enjoy it!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. Mistakes are mine too. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – I Also Bold-Faced LIED About My Feelings**

Days turn into weeks. Soon it's late October. The fall season here in Southern California is yet something else run quite differently here than it is in New York City. As a matter of fact, SoCal falls are unlike what you'd find in the more northern parts of the same state. Here in Newport Beach, the arrival of fall means the throng of summer tourists dwindles so that finding a square foot of empty space on beaches is once again doable. Surf waves swell to heights the locals keep secret lest those aforementioned departed tourists make an about-face. We can once again navigate and park in the streets. And last but not least, availability in restaurants returns. However, there's no such thing as fall foliage here, and only subtly cooler temps in the evenings differentiate the season from every other day of the year.

Also, the fall means Nessie is now four months pregnant, and officially at the start of her second trimester.

"So, Doctor Gerandy performed both an ultrasound _and_ a pelvic exam?"

"Yes, Mom, she performed both. What are you doing to my hair? Don't pull it, you fresh, little thing."

My soon-to-be-a-mom daughter prances around our living room with her little cousin, Sammy, in her arms, cooing and smiling at her and making her giggle wildly. As much as I know Ness has always loved Sammy, she now shows a level of patience and interest in her exuberant baby cousin which betrays her building excitement at soon having one of her own.

Meanwhile, I sit on the sofa looking up at them and resisting the urge to tell Ness to sit down, to get off her feet, and to hand over that energetic, kicking toddler.

"And the lab tests came back normal?"

"Yes, Mom. No fetal membrane visible, no inflammation. I've got your nose. I've got your nose!" she teases an almost convulsing Sammy. "Everything is just fine, Mom."

"Thank the Lord Almighty."

I whisper the words mostly to myself, but Nessie looks down at me. When she takes a seat, I'm more than a bit relieved. Sammy was seriously going to town there in her arms.

"Mom, I'm seeing a Perinatologist every two weeks, in addition to my regular OB, just as you recommended."

I nod at her. "Has she talked about a cervical cerc-"

"Mom." Ness shakes her head, holding my gaze, though Sammy places a tiny palm on Ness's face and tries to redirect her attention. "You know very well no doctor would ever perform a cerclage without it being a necessity, and it's _not a necessity."_ She lays a hand on mine. "Everything is _fine_." When she grins, it's so wide, infused with so much happiness, and my heart clenches so painfully. Then, Ness gives in to Sammy's urgings and turns her attention back to her, and I take full advantage to draw in a succession of surreptitious breaths.

"Well, I know the specialist and the extra tests are out-of-pocket for you and Anthony, and since I suggested them, Edward and I want to reimburse-"

"Mom, stop," she says as she tickles Sammy senseless.

It was exactly around this time, at the very beginning of my second trimester, when I miscarried my first pregnancy due to a weak cervix, which dilated way too early. In the years between then and my next pregnancy, through personal research and discussions with doctors and specialists, I discovered there were small signs and indicators – hormonal imbalances and irregular measurements which, while they wouldn't have positively diagnosed the condition, would've been warning something was wrong.

"Did you ask the doctor about tomorrow's outing? Does she think it's okay?"

Ever since Alice, Nessie, and I moved to Newport Beach, the six of us take a yearly trip up to Big Bear Lake further up north in the San Bernardino Mountains. Up there, Alice, Ness, and I catch glimpses of what _we_ consider fall, cooler temps and leaves changing color. This year, Sammy will be old enough to begin to appreciate that version of fall as well. What's more, there are a couple of hiking trails up there we love, from where the views of the evergreens in all their multi-hued glory are amazing.

Now, naturally, with Ness preggos this year, I assumed she and Anthony would bow out of the yearly expedition. You can imagine my surprise and my – mostly – silent apprehension when I found out this wasn't the case.

"Yes, Mommy." Exasperation seeps into her tone, despite how she's got her mouth pressed to Sammy's stomach, blowing raspberries. "Doctor Gerandy said it's just fine – the walking, the hiking, all of it – as long as I feel well, which I do, and as long as I carry my crackers around."

"God forbid we forget the crackers."

"What?" Ness looks up for a moment and grins.

"Nothing."

She resumes playtime with Sammy, none the wiser.

Better prepared and aware the second time around, it was at about the four-and-a-half month mark of my second pregnancy when the doctors discovered my cervix shortening early once more. At that point, they performed an emergency _Cervical Cerclage_. It's a frightening term that just means they sewed up my incompetent cervix in the hopes that those sutures would hold for at least ten more weeks when a premature birth wouldn't be as dangerous for the baby.

"Nessie, up, up!" Sammy commands, wrapping her small hands around Nessie's shoulders and trying to pull her up, obviously bored with the laid-back position she's been in for twenty-seven seconds.

In addition, I was put on a shitload of meds meant to do all sorts of things from suppressing contractions to speeding up the development of my unborn baby's lungs. Lastly, I was placed on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. All these efforts kept me pregnant through my thirty-sixth week when a slightly early yet wonderfully healthy Vanessa Laurent was born. Therefore, all totally worth it.

"Nessie, UP! Swing, Nessie, Swing!"

I reach for Sammy. "Here, give her to me."

"No! Want Nessie! Nessie big; Aunt BB small! Up! SWING!"

"Seriously, kiddo? You've got the nerve to call _me_ short? Get your little butt over here."

Sammy giggles while I try to pry her usually sweet self off of Ness, but the darn thing has morphed into a leach. She clings to Ness, who appears fully prepared to obey the toddler's every whim. When Edward swoops by and scoops Sammy up by the waist, he flips her around mid-air so quickly her pigtails smack her face. She squeals in frenzied elation before he props her up high onto his shoulders. And I can't help exhaling in relief.

"You want to be swung around by someone big, kiddo?" he roars. She fists his hair and screams her approval as he swivels her around atop his broad shoulders.

"More, Uncoe Edwood! More!"

"Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn't have said that," Edward growls. Then, like a bull, he charges across the room, safely gripping Sammy by her waist. But the kid thinks she's on the ride of her life. She guides Edward around by his hair, laughing uncontrollably, those toddler belly laughs no adult can either copy or resist.

"Watch that head of hair, Sammy," I yell. "Aunt BB likes that head of hair!" _She enjoys pulling on it herself_ , I think to myself.

During one of his passes, Edward's eyes meet mine, and he winks. Knows me too well, that one.

"Pop is going to be a great granddad," Nessie says out of nowhere, watching the scene with almost-childlike amazement.

"Of course he is," I reply matter-of-factly. "He was a great dad. Your hubby is living proof of that."

"He is," she says quietly, smiling softly in the direction of Anthony, who's off in the kitchen making Ness cheese quesadillas – her latest craving. "Mom, there's something else." When she turns her gaze toward me, dropping her voice, my heart stills.

"Ness…"

"Doctor Gerandy said if we want, we can find out the sex of the baby at our next appointment in two weeks!"

As I lay a hand upon my heart and feel it take up its somewhat normal rhythm once more, I wonder if I'll make it through the next two days of this pregnancy, much less two weeks.

"Oh. Is that something you want, to know the baby's sex before birth?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't we want to know?" She says this as if the concept of not knowing is foreign, maybe something Martians might do.

Of course, my reason is stupid, unreasonable, and something I won't bring up because it might upset her. But in my mind, I see seventeen-year-old me splayed out on my friend Angela's dad's examination table, while her parents were out of town, and Angela performed a sneak ultrasound.

" _Oh my God, Bella, look at that!"_

" _What, Angela, what? What is it? I don't see it!"_

" _Right there, Bell! Look!" She sucked her teeth and touched the screen. "It's a penis!"_

" _It's…" I swallowed, "It's a boy? Are you sure? I mean, no offense, Ang, but you're no expert at this or anything."_

" _Bella, my dad taught me; sometimes it's clear; sometimes it's not so clear. Look at that thing," she laughed. "It's clear. You and Edward are having a baby boy!"_

I swallow thickly.

"I just…I personally think it's a nice surprise. When I was pregnant with _you_ , your dad and I didn't find out your sex until you popped out of me. It was great to see the look of shocked surprise on his face." I chuckle softly as I recall that particular moment. "You see, we were both convinced you'd be a boy, but it was a wonderful surprise because secretly, we both wanted a girl." Once again, I refrain from explaining how I wanted a girl because the loss of my first boy was still too raw and painful. "I just think waiting adds…an extra layer of excitement to the entire event."

Ness rolls her eyes, smiling. "Oh, Mom. No one _waits_ anymore. This way, we can pick out the baby's room and clothes and everything right away."

"You can still-"

"Tanya says she found out Anthony was going to be a boy as soon as she could."

"Oh. Did she? I didn't…know that."

What I hold back now: _At least, she showed some interest after Edward had to promise her marriage, his soul, and his earnings for the next eighteen years in order for her to keep him._

"So…both you and Anthony are in agreement about going up to Big Bear Lake tomorrow, and about finding out the baby's sex before birth?"

"Yeah, Mom," she grins, "we are."

"Then…I guess we're going, and you're finding out," I smile.

OOOOOOOOOO

A couple of days later finds Edward and I both working from home. It's one of those rare days when neither of us has any outside commitments or errands, and we're thrilled to be able to just stay home in loose sweatpants and tattered tee shirts, relaxing, and basking in the glory of one another's company. I've already checked in on Nessie, who assured me she's feeling wonderful, despite the previous day's activity.

Edward and I breakfast together in the kitchen. Then, we separate to our respective offices to take care of our respective work.

A couple of hours later, I'm walking through the upstairs hallway with laptop in hand, heading for Edward's office. Before I reach his door, he pops out of his office, his own laptop in hand. When he sees me, he jumps back. Then, a wide grin overspreads his handsome face.

"Looks like we both had the same idea," he laughs.

"Want my company for a bit?"

"Always more than just a little."

We end up at the small, cast-iron bistro table in the backyard, sitting closely together while we talk and attempt to work. It's…strange, but although my life before Edward – or rather, in between Edward – was a great one, I sometimes wonder quietly, in the middle of the night when my thoughts are my own and no one else's, how I managed to go about it for so long without the slightest hint or knowledge of where, what, or how he was doing.

"My legs ached a bit this morning," Edward confesses. "We did quite a bit of hiking."

"Yeah, mine too," I say, rubbing my shins. I pause for a few seconds. "I still can't believe Ness managed it so well."

Edward smiles knowingly. "She's perfectly healthy, babe, but I'm proud of how you kept from screaming out loud yesterday." He reaches out and squeezes my hand over the small space between us.

"Well, I do know most women can carry on all normal, day-to-day activities while pregnant." I sigh. "Nonetheless, I think I held my breath the entire time we were up there. They're glowing lately," I say with a smile. "Both of them."

"They are. It's like they're seeing the world, all the sights they've seen hundreds, thousands of times, through different eyes."

"Imagining what it'll all look like to their baby. I remember that."

"Me too," Edward says wistfully. Again, he squeezes my hand. A faint, fall breeze blows through his full head of hair, and from behind him, the swaying palms of Anthony's Tree catch my attention.

"Anthony…he would've been an uncle in a few months."

"I know. An uncle twice-over," Edward chuckles, "on Anthony's _and_ on Nessie's side."

"That's so…weird," I laugh.

Edward laughs with me. "It sort of is." He adds more quietly, "He would've been a really great uncle…he would've loved that baby."

"Of course he would've been a great uncle, and of course he would've loved the baby. We're all going to love the heck out of that baby – whether it's a huge shitter or a nasty vomiter or anything in between."

"Or both."

It's as we're both roaring with laughter at this that Anthony – Anthony Robert, that is – walks into the backyard.

"What's so funny?" he asks as he strolls toward us.

"Oh, you'll find out," I snicker, "though it may not be funny to _you_. But never mind that. What's up? What are you doing here?"

Anthony leans in and kisses my cheek, then straightens and pats his father's back.

"Ness is taking an early afternoon nap, so I figured I'd stop by."

"Is she okay?" I ask, unable to fully suppress the panic n my voice.

Anthony looks at me and squeezes my shoulder. "Mom, I _promise_ you, she's fine. I bet we're all a bit tired from yesterday."

"We are," I admit with a rueful smile.

"Hey, Tone, want a drink?" Edward offers.

"Yeah, but don't worry, old man," Anthony says, "I'll get it. I remember where the kitchen is; though, it's a lot more inviting than it was when I lived here." He grins my way, and I laugh.

"That's alright," Edward says. "I've got to grab something from the office anyway. I'll be right back."

When Edward vacates his seat, Anthony takes it. For a second, when I look at him sitting in the chair his father just left, I can barely tell the difference between them. It seems it's an off day for Ness and Anthony too because he's also in sweats and a tee.

I'm reminded of the first time I met Anthony, at JFK Airport in New York City. He bore such a striking resemblance to his dad that at first, I was sure I'd either traveled back in time, Twilight Zone style, or I'd suddenly been presented with the Spawn of Satan.

Well, of course, I no longer consider Edward to be Satan. And nowadays, I easily see all the physical differences between father and son which I failed to recognize then. Anthony is a couple of inches taller; his hair is much lighter; his build, while solid, still bears the slenderness of youth – those in-between years when the ups and downs of life haven't as yet left much of an imprint.

"So, how've you been, Mom?" he asks, tilting his head sideways and grinning that crooked grin that's all Edward. That grin was further confirmation, on that day long ago, that it was definitely Edward's Spawn in front of me. Anthony reaches out and squeezes my hand, also in much the same manner as his dad tends to do.

"I've been fine, Anthony. Thanks." I offer him a bemused smile at the gesture. "But as you just saw me yesterday, and _I'm_ not pregnant..."

He chuckles. "You've just seemed a bit…off lately."

"Off?" I snort. "Off as in?"

"Off as in…quiet."

"Quiet?" I chuckle. "Anthony, I've been accused of a lot of things in my life, but being quiet has never been one of them."

"Just a bit quiet, maybe," he concedes with a smile and a nod. "I want to make sure you're good." He clears his throat. "That _we're_ good. I thought maybe…"

"I'm fine, really," I say reassuringly, backing up and grinning.

The look he shoots me doesn't seem quite convinced.

"To be honest, I've been a bit preoccupied with the Company's structuration. The lawyers sent over another set of documents this morning, and between your dad and I, we can barely make heads or tails out of them. Alice is coming over later this afternoon to go over them with us. I was going to give Ness and you a heads up later today, but since you're here, you can have a look."

He nods slowly. "All right, sure." He pauses. "Hey, Mom, if I've done something-"

"Scoot that chair over here before your dad returns and pushes your butt off."

He studies me for a handful of seconds longer. "Yes, ma'am."

Then, he pulls his chair closer so we can both examine the document up on my screen.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Sorry if I haven't gotten back to you guys! FF is still acting up, and I'm still getting most reviews and 'Guest Reviews' which can't be responded to. But I'm so enjoying reading your reviews. Whoever reviewed that Bella's problem was being bottled up like Pepsi rather than Coke had me laughing out loud. (Btw, I think I know who you are. ;) )**

' **See' you soon!**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	7. Ch 6 Then Came the Text From Hell

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts! Slowly trying to get back to you guys while updating again!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. As are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – Then Came the Text From Hell**

About a week later and a week before Ness is due for her sonogram, I'm at the market, situating my items on the conveyor belt. When my phone beeps with a text, I pull it from my bag, only intending to check who it's from and reply once I've checked out. I'm next in line, and I sure as hell don't want to be one of those annoying people who play with their phones while on the checkout line.

Then, I read this:

 **Bella, I'm in Newport Beach. I was wondering if you have time to meet for lunch. I'm available until 2 p.m., after which I have to return to L.A. for a 4 p.m. Let me know asap. Thanks.**

"Mother fuck."

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The teenaged checkout boy, who's already begun scanning my items, stops and stares at me through wide-eyes.

"Uh…sorry. I forgot tomatoes."

"Oh. Would you like me to wait until you grab some?" he asks.

The consumer behind me sucks his teeth and sighs.

"Lady, maybe if you got off your phone and focused on what you're doing, you wouldn't forget items, and thereby hold up the rest of us, who have lives to lead."

Shoving my phone back in my bag, I pivot and glare at the guy.

"You want to talk about lives to lead, Mr.? Do you? Because you have no idea, no idea whatsoever of all the crap going down in my life since I turned forty-five. And you have no idea who this text is from or what it says, so please don't judge without all the facts. For all you know, sir, this text here could be informing me that the planet is about to explode, and I could've been about to spin around and let you know so that you wouldn't waste your money on your purchase of…" – I look down at his items behind mine on the conveyor – "bread, deli products, and mayo."

The guy raises a dubious eyebrow. " _Does_ the text say the planet is about to explode?"

"Well now, you'll have to wait and see, won't you? Enjoy your sandwich, sir." Then, I swing back around and pick up my reusable shopping bag, ready to stomp out with my head held high.

"Uh, ma'am, you didn't pay for that!" the checkout boy calls out.

OOOOOOOOOO

I take prodigious care and put a hell of a lot of thought into the proper placement of my few items into the car's trunk. Then I slowly walk toward the driver's side, carefully opening the door so that I don't accidentally hit the vehicle next to me. I smooth down my pants before climbing in. When I take my seat and shut the door, I watch the late morning sun shine over the parking lot – the moms with their kids, pulling them along into the market, the women in business attire walking in by themselves. Then, I pull my phone out.

 **Alice, you'll never guess who the hell just texted me, asking to meet me for lunch.**

I wait half a minute.

 **If I'll never guess, just tell me. I'm on the other line with a pain in the ass client I took on pro bono.**

 **Baby Mamma, that's who. You want me to text you later?**

 **GTFOOH?! And no, it's fine. I've learned to multi-task. For what?**

 **I have no clue.**

 **Are you going to meet her?**

 **I suppose I have to if I want to know what the hell she wants.**

 **Did you tell Edward?**

 **No. He's working at the office today. Don't want to bother him. I'll tell him later.**

 **Alright. I won't tell Jasper yet then either. Where are you meeting her?**

She texts me again before I can reply.

 **Take her to Pacific Stream. You're like a rock star there. Carrying Swan Bellies has become their claim to fame.**

 **Good idea. Yeah. Thanks, Al.**

I swallow thickly. I've been a bit hurt that Al appears to have known before me about Nessie's pregnancy, but…they were always close.

 **No problem, babe. Text me as soon as you're done with her! I wish I could go with you, but Sammy would prob end up embarrassing you.**

 **Never. But yeah, prob best I go alone.**

 **LOL. Don't forget to text me. Love ya!**

 **Love you too.**

With a deep breath, which I exhale through narrowed lips, I scroll to this morning's text, and I type out a reply.

 **Tanya, I've got an hour between 12:30 and 1:30. I'll meet you at Pacific Stream on Avocado Ave. I'll call for reservations.**

I stare at the two-sentence text for a few seconds before I hit 'Send.'

OOOOOOOOOO

I've got a habit of arriving at least fifteen minutes early to any and all appointments. This habit holds true for my lunch meeting with Tanya – which is fine. It'll give me time to gather my wits, which obviously need gathering lately, as per the market debacle.

I park the BMW next to a varied collection of Bentleys, Range Rovers, Prius's and Outbacks. As soon as I open the car door, the inviting scent of burning wood wafts through the air. Patrons sit at the outside dining area in everything from Cuban Guayaberas to three-piece suits. It's an eclectic mix, which is one of the things I like about the place.

The dining room is classically dark, with plain lightbulbs hanging from wooden beams and white linen-covered tables set out in rows. Square-shaded lamps provide a bit more light, but the entire ambiance is meant to be warm and inviting, and it is.

The hostess greets me with a smile of recognition; Edward and I are here often, plus, the place proudly serves Swan Bellies.

"Mrs. Masen, we're delighted to see you here today. Will Mr. Masen be joining you?"

"No, but I do have a guest meeting me," I say, smiling back at the hostess.

"Wonderful. Please follow me, then. We have your table waiting."

I requested our usual outdoor section, so she leads me back out to the patio-style dining area with Adirondack chairs, patio umbrellas, and string lights, all surrounded by a well-landscaped lawn. It's soothing, and I'm gonna need soothing here.

"Your usual mojito, Mrs. Masen?" the hostess asks as I take my seat. She looks clean and pristine in the required Ralph Lauren shirt and black slacks.

"Yes, thank you, Lauren, but please, very light on the rum. I don't need my mouth getting away from me this afternoon – any more than it already has." I mumble the last part under my breath.

Lauren offers me a friendly chuckle in return, very professionally pretending she didn't hear that last bit.

"Of course. I'll inform the bar staff to go light on the rum, and I'll have your drink sent out with your waitperson." Before walking off, she leans in. "And by the way, this morning's delivery of Sugar-and-Spice-Cookies were _amazing_. They're all gone, but when we were informed you'd be dropping by for lunch, we kept a couple on hold for you." She whispers the last part conspiratorially.

"Why, thank you! But those were my daughter's creation," I grin proudly. "Baby on the brain and all that."

"Well, she definitely takes after her mom with her creativity," Lauren smiles. "Enjoy your lunch, Mrs. Masen."

I smile back at her, hoping my extreme doubt of that outcome isn't spelled across my face. When she walks away, I draw in a breath and look forward to the next few minutes of solitude in which to compose myself.

Apparently, someone taught Tanya to arrive early as well. As soon as I complete my first cleansing breath, Tanya's Lexus pulls up and, tires screeching slightly, parks close to my BMW. I suppose I've had all the prep time I'm going to get.

She exits the car like a movie star, on long stilettoes and a scarlet red skirt suit which screams _High-Powered L.A. Attorney_. Her strawberry-blond hair hangs long and straight behind her, swinging back and forth like a pendulum as she walks. For a split second, I regret not changing my outfit and fixing my hair – I'm wearing a pair of dark, high-waisted and wide-legged sailor pants with a white blouse tucked in at the waist, and my hair is up in a purposely messy bun a la Nessie. I wouldn't say I look like shit, but if beauty pageants were still a respectable thing, I wouldn't hold my breath for a place in the top ten.

But no; I won't do that to myself.

Tanya spots me and struts to the table on those high heels, one of those walks that says, ' _I've got more important things to do than you after this.'_ As she takes a seat, she neither smiles nor scowls, and I maintain the same neutral expression.

"Bella."

"Tanya."

She looks around as she situates herself, places her napkin on her lap and such. "Nice place."

"Edward and I like it."

"Mm." She glances at her watch. "I'm happy to find you here early. I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait and risk being late to my four o'clock back in L.A. It's a pretty important meeting."

"I'm glad I could help keep you on schedule."

When she chuckles, I'm surprised it doesn't snow. The waitress arrives at that moment with my mojito.

"Here you go, Mrs. Masen; light on the rum, just as you requested it."

"Thank you," I smile up at her, suddenly wishing I'd asked for extra rum.

"No problem. We're always happy to see you here," she smiles in return. Then, she turns to Tanya, friendliness still in place. "Good afternoon, ma'am. We're always happy to see a friend of Mrs. Masen's as well! May I bring you a drink?"

"Water's fine, and just the menus, please."

I see the waitress's eyes narrow for a fraction of a second before she recovers herself.

"I'll bring your water out right away, ma'am, as well as the menus."

"Thank you; that'd be great," I say.

Tanya simply nods. I vaguely wonder if her water will have a layer of saliva floating on it when it arrives. If it does, I'll totally pretend I can't see it.

When the waitress walks off to retrieve menus and possibly-dirty water, Tanya looks at me and smiles.

"So, how have you been, Bella?"

"I'm good, Tanya. To what do I owe your text and request for this lunch meeting?"

"Direct, aren't you?" she snorts.

"Well, you want to make your meeting on time, right? And I've got some stuff to do as well."

She nods slowly.

The waitress arrives with our menus, dishwater, and an order of appetizers.

"Here you go," she says. "Mrs. Masen, the chef sends these fried oysters out with his compliments."

"Thank you so much!" I say. "Please pass my thanks along to Jean, and tell him they look delicious."

"I certainly will, Mrs. Masen." She hands us our menus. "I'll be back shortly to take your orders."

"So, what do you suggest here, Bella, since you're apparently such a regular?" Tanya asks as she peruses her menu.

"The crab cakes with avocado and grapefruit are pretty good, as is the ribeye if you're into that." I sigh and set down the menu. "Basically anything is tasty here. What's going on, Tanya?"

She looks around her menu at me, smiling as she meets my eyes. "Why does something have to be going on for us to have lunch together, Bella?"

"Tanya, our kids are married to one another, and whatever happened in the past is in the past, but we're certainly not friends," I shake my head and smile in return. "So, what's going on?"

She studies me for a moment, then sets down her menu. "Okay," she says simply, grinning. "I wanted to talk to you about Vanessa and Anthony."

My scalp prickles, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible, and I knit my hands together over the table to keep from fisting them furiously.

"What about Vanessa and Anthony?" I ask calmly.

Tanya knits her hands together, copying my posture. "They're finding out the sex of the baby next week, right?"

I swallow back my irritation at her knowledge, and I mentally repeat what's become a daily mantra for me: _She has just as much right, she has just as much right._

"Right," I reply slowly.

"I wanted to discuss the Gender Reveal Party for them."

I blink a few times. "Gender Reveal…?"

"A Gender Reveal Party is-"

"I know what a Gender Reveal Party is, Tanya. I'm asking _what_ Gender Reveal Party?"

"The one we're going to throw for them, of course."

The waitress returns for our orders. I request the Kale Salad; Tanya orders the seafood cocktail. After the waitress takes back our menus and leaves, I look at Tanya and shake my head.

"I have no plans to throw them a Gender Reveal Party. They're going to have a Baby Shower in a few months."

"What makes you think they want a Baby Shower?"

"What makes you think they want a Gender Reveal Party?"

"They're Millennials, Bella," Tanya retorts. "It's what they do nowadays." She jerks back as if my amazement amazes her. "You should know this. Aren't you some sort of marketing guru?"

For a few seconds, I can do nothing more than stare at her.

"Why don't we ask them?" Tanya finally suggests.

"What, like right now?" I ask because she's staring at me expectantly.

"Yes." She snorts as if the question is inane, glancing down at her watch. "We need to know as soon as possible, especially if they want a Gender Reveal Party. Now, if they want a Baby Shower," she says, twisting her full, red lips in obvious distaste and waving a hand dismissively, "then, you've got plenty of time to plan that."

I press my lips together, teeth on teeth so tight that for a moment I fear they might crack. So, I stop, because the last thing I need in front of Tanya is to crack a tooth.

"Alright," I say as nonchalantly as possible, reaching into my bag to pull out my cell. "I'll text them right now, but they might need some time to think about it."

"Ask them if they can give us an answer now. If not," she sighs, "I suppose we'll have to wait."

"Fine."

Heart racing, I compose my texts.

 **Hi Nessie, how do you feel, hon?**

 **Hi, Anthony, what's going on sweetheart?**

As soon as I hit send on both texts, I look up at Tanya.

"I'm greeting them first before I ask them."

She presses her lips together and glances again at her watch, sighing. "All right."

"Do you want an oyster?" I ask, waving a hand in their direction.

"No. Thanks."

I allow my gaze to roam around the patio, watching the laughing and smiling faces around us. The phone beeps. It's Anthony.

 **Hi, Mom. I'm good, thanks. Hope you're well. I'm actually at the office with Dad.**

 **Oh, okay. Quick question, Anthony, and you can def check with Ness first if you'd like before you answer, and if you can't answer right now, that's fine too. But if you can get back to me in the next few minutes and let me know if you guys would prefer a Baby Shower or a Gender Reveal Party, that'd be great.**

While I'm composing that, my phone beeps with another text. I quickly shoot the first off to Anthony and check Nessie's reply.

 **Hey, Mom. I feel good, thanks. How's your afternoon? What's up?**

 **It's fine; thanks, baby. Just have a quick question for you, and I just sent Anthony a text with the same question. You can check with him quickly before you reply, and if you can't answer right now, that's fine, but if you can let me know in the next few minutes if you guys would prefer a Baby Shower or a Gender Reveal Party, that'd be great.**

Across from me, Tanya sighs.

I look up at her. "I want them to check with one another first, and I'm giving them the option to take a few days to think about it. They may not be sure yet which they'd prefer."

She shrugs in a ' _What choice do I have but to wait?'_ manner.

The waitress returns with our dishes.

My phone beeps.

 **Hey, Mom. I texted Ness. She says you texted her too. Everything okay?**

 **Everything is fine, Anthony, but if you can let me know, that'd be great. If you can't right now, that's fine too.**

"Anything?" Tanya asks.

"They're checking with one another," I say.

She sighs. Our dishes remain untouched. My phone beeps.

 **Hi, Mom. What's this about? Anthony says you texted him too.**

 **Honey, if you guys can answer the question, that'd be great. If you can't right now, that's fine too. Just let me know.**

 **Bella, babe, what's going on? Anthony's here, and he says you're asking about Baby Showers and Gender Reveals?**

 **Mom, I'm fine with anything. Please don't drive yourself nuts about this. I'll defer to whatever Ness and/or you would prefer. Is everything okay?**

"Anything, Bella?"

"Hold on, Tanya."

 **Okay. But Anthony, do you have a preference?**

 **Edward, I'll explain in a few.**

 **Ness?**

"Mrs. Masen, is something wrong with your dish selections? Would you like us to bring you both something else?"

I look up at the waitress and offer her a frazzled smile.

"No, no. Everything's fine. Sorry."

"Actually, can you please just bring us the check?" Tanya says.

"Oh. Would you like today's Swan Bellies first?" the waitress asks. "We-"

"No. Just the check, please," Tanya says.

My phone beeps.

 **Mommy, I'd prefer a Gender Reveal, but either or neither is fine. What's going on, Mom?**

My shoulders fall. My eyes sting senselessly, because really, what difference does it make?

"Well?"

I take a couple of seconds to make sure my voice won't quiver and my eyes won't appear glassy before I look up at Tanya.

"Anthony is fine with either…but…Ness would prefer a Gender Reveal."

"Wonderful," Tanya drawls. I can hear the triumph in her voice. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. Who knows anymore?

"All right, then."

She abruptly pops open her red, Hermes Birkin bag, pulls out a matching wallet, and retrieves a hundred dollar bill.

"Put your money away, Tanya," I say. "I've got it."

"Okay," she shrugs. "Thanks. I've got to run. This was good," she says in one of those ' _I'm surprised you didn't direct me to a place where they serve roadkill'_ tones. "I'll be in touch in the next couple of days so we can plan and coordinate. Take care, Bella."

"Take care, Tanya."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Frustration is ruling many of your thoughts, lol. Oh, I can tell. But…it's not a long story, so hang in there. ;)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

' **See' you soon!**


	8. Ch 7 She's Too Brave For Her Own Good

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. We're almost done. (About 10 chapters, remember?)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. So are all mistakes.**

 **Chapter 7 – She's Too Brave For Her Own Good**

* * *

 **Edward**

"Anthony, honey, you'll feel it soon, too. I promise you."

Bella smiles widely. She's in bed already, propped up against the headboard, wearing that black, short pajama I like but on the phone as I emerge from the shower.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"The kids called to tell us Ness just felt the baby move for the first time. I'm on the phone with Anthony now."

"That's great." As I towel off my hair, I grin softly at my wife's reflection in the dresser mirror. "Tell them I said congratulations."

"Dad says congratulations!" Then, she chuckles.

"What?" I ask.

"Anthony says the baby is already showing a rebellious Masen streak. It refuses to move for him."

"Serves him right," I smirk. "He was a contrary little pain-in-the-butt for a while there."

"Dad says it serves you right for being an insurgent in your youth." My wife laughs into the phone, and God, I love hearing that sound.

For a few seconds, I stand still in front of the mirror, holding the towel against my damp head, another wrapped around my hips, and enjoying the hell out of the view of my wife. Not just because of the pajamas I love, but because she's had a full plate lately between her issues with turning forty-five, the company structuration, and of course…the pregnancy. And that carefree laugh hasn't been as frequent as usual.

"Anthony, you will feel it soon! No, I can't give you an exact date and time," she snaps playfully, rolling her eyes.

This pregnancy, while having the potential to bring her – to bring all of us – one of the biggest joys we've ever experienced, is also reviving some old memories, causing some absent-minded insensitivities, and forcing my wife to deal with issues – and with people – she shouldn't have to deal with.

"No, that's fine. You guys just focus on that little one. I'll take care of the rest."

I sigh at the mirror and finish toweling off. Bella sounds calm, but I see the sudden, stiff set of her shoulders. I know her in a way no one else does. I know her many joys…and I know her few fears.

"Okay. So, I'll bake the cake the day before the party, after we receive the results from the OB. I'm excited too, baby. And I'm so excited you felt the baby move. Tell Anthony not to worry too much; he'll feel it soon too. Okay. Goodnight from both Edward and me, and say goodnight to Anthony too. We love you both."

After she ends the call, she stares at the phone for a few seconds before she sighs and looks up at me with a wistful smile.

She's a brave woman, who's been through a lot, and who's faced it all with confidence and courage.

I cross the room and quietly sit on the bed with her, waiting for her to meet my eyes. When she does, I take her hand and knit our fingers together.

"May I ask something?"

"Of course," she murmurs.

"Why don't you just tell them, or why don't _we_ just tell them, that-"

"That what, Edward?" she whispers. "That their pregnancy should be handled my way?"

I exhale a long breath. "Bella, that's not what I'm saying you should say. But there's more than that going on here, and if they don't see it on their own…"

When she drops her gaze to the space between us, I try to keep the frustration out of my tone, because it's not my wife with whom I'm frustrated.

"Babe…I know being strong, being brave has always been your way..." she snorts at this, but she doesn't meet my eyes, "but there comes the point where you take on too much."

"It's fine, Edward."

"It's _not_ fine, Bella. _She's_ going to find out the baby's sex at the same time you will?"

Finally, she looks up at me again. "Yes, Edward, because she has as much right here as-"

"That's just…bull." I exhale deeply. "Those type of rights are _earned_ , Bella. Do Anthony and Ness even know this entire Gender Reveal Party was Tanya's idea as opposed to the Baby Shower you would've preferred?"

"They want the Gender Reveal Party, Edward."

"Because they don't know-"

"They don't know what? Again, what am I supposed to say to them? 'Let's do things my way?' Who's the one who's always reminding me that we have to allow our kids to lead their own lives; to make their own decisions?"

"Again, I'm not trying to say the opposite now."

She shuts her eyes and presses her wrists against them. "Edward, the party is set for two weeks from today, only for close family and friends. That's it. Tanya's taking care of decorations, I'm taking care of the catering. Nessie's sonogram is in a few days, at which point they'll check the sex of the baby, and give you, me, and Tanya the results. She'll finish the decorations based on those results, and I'll bake either a strawberry-dyed or blueberry-dyed cake. And then…we can just put this darn party behind us."

"Except, it's not that cut and dry."

I shake my head, unable to agree with her on this. Then, she reaches and cups my cheek, as if I'm the one who's hurt here.

"Edward, would I have liked for things…events to have proceeded differently?" She offers me a weak smile. "Did I picture some things, some announcements differently? Yes. But I had my child, and you had yours. This is _their_ time, Edward. They're excited as they should be." She chuckles quietly. "I don't want to take away from that simply because…because…"

I take the hand with which she's cradling my cheek and guide it to my mouth, kissing her palm and holding her gaze.

"Because you're terrified for her."

"Yes, I'm terrified," she swallows, "but that's _my_ issue, not Nessie's. So far, her pregnancy is moving along wonderfully. She's taking the extra precautions I suggested by seeing a perinatologist. How would it be fair of me to take away any more from her enjoyment of this time? It's no wonder she prefers Tanya's uncomplicated advice."

"Bella," I squeeze her hand, "I'm not saying you should force her to _share_ your fears, but maybe…she can acknowledge them?"

"Now, Edward? When she's pregnant?" She shakes her head decisively. "I don't want to upset her _now_."

"Babe…if Ness is healthy enough to go hiking, she's healthy enough to have a heart-to-heart with her mom."

"It's not the same," she says, still shaking her head. "Upsetting her…"

With a deep breath, I pull her onto my lap. "Bella, you've told me, more than once, that how I treated you while you were pregnant with our Anthony, and what you saw that day when you arrived at the dorm room had nothing to do with your miscarriage."

She locks her eyes on me. "Because it's true, Edward; it didn't."

"Then how would your speaking to Nessie be any different?" I ask carefully.

She looks at me through big, brown eyes.

"As for Tanya," I continue, unable to fully suppress a scowl, "I know we agreed we'd give her a chance regarding the kids, but that doesn't mean you have to keep quiet when she tries to usurp your place-"

"Usurp my place?" she snorts. "Whether we like it or not, Edward, she has just as much right here as I do. She's Anthony's mother and Nessie's mother-in-law. I can't make this about me, Edward; I _can't_."

"Bella, all I'm saying is that I think you should talk to them. _We_ could talk to them. I know they've got baby on the brain right now," I chuckle, "but they're good kids. I'm not saying we should tell them how to handle this pregnancy or that we should try to make their decisions, but maybe if we just point out a couple of things to them? They've got good principles, Bella; they both do. That will guide them without us having to get into specific advice."

She stares off into space. "Advice is subjective, while principles are constant."

"Exactly," I nod, somewhat relieved. Cupping her chin, I guide her eyes back to me. "Promise me you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it, Edward." She cradles my face in her warm hands. "But first, let's get through this party."

"All right," I concede. "All right."

For a few seconds, she searches my eyes. "What in the world would I ever do without you to keep me semi-sane?"

I chuckle quietly. "I've told you; you'll never have to find out."

Our lips meet, softly at first, brushes which become nips, and then mouths opening, allowing, asking with more urgency.

"I love you," she breathes. "I love you."

And when she reaches for my towel and pulls it off, when she wraps herself around me, as much as I love our children, they become the furthest thing from my mind. And afterward, when tired and sated, we fall asleep tangled around one another, with her head on my chest, my wife is my final thought before I fall asleep.

 _I think I'll share your philosophy regarding principles versus advice with my wife – but I'll take the credit for it if you don't mind."_

 _"Go ahead," I chuckled. "I don't mind at all."_

 _"Thanks," he grinned. "I doubt I'll fool her, though; she's too smart for that. She'll probably figure out right away I didn't come up with it myself."_

 _"Well, either way, I hope it works for you; though, if you don't mind me saying, it sounds like your wife is already a great mom."_

 _His reply came without a moment's hesitation. "Oh, she is. She's a terrific mom…and an amazing wife."_

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Oh my God, the frustration continues! Don't worry; we should be done soon. ;)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **'See' you soon!**


	9. Ch 8 The Straw That Broke, Well You Know

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. Almost done here! I'm trying to crank this out, so please forgive any delay in review replies. But I'm enjoying the heck out of them! :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. So are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – The Straw that Broke…Well, You Know How It Goes**

It's a bit past eight p.m., two days before Nessie's sonogram appointment, where Edward, Tanya, and I will learn the sex of the baby so that we can finish planning the Gender Reveal Party of the year.

Honestly, I've warmed up to the idea of the party. I mean, it's a party. Also, I can let loose my passion for planning, cooking and baking to my heart's content, an activity which has always had the side benefit of being a soothing balm. What's more, the party will be in honor of Ness, Anthony, and their baby. What better party is there to plan?

And it _has_ taken planning because I've had to get creative since pink and blue foods aren't the easiest to come by, and using food coloring kind of goes against my beliefs. Nevertheless, I've planned an entire menu – pink and blue deviled eggs dyed with beet juice and eggplant juice, pink and blue lemonade dyed with strawberries and blueberries, pink and blue Jell-O shots, pink and blue chocolate dipped pretzel rods, cake pops, cupcakes, etc. Of course, there will also be plenty of normal food: quiches and Seven-Layer nacho dips and mini lobster rolls, and…well, you get the idea. The crowning glory, at least culinary-wise, will be the cake.

I've sketched out the cake on my pad. It will be owl-themed, as will be much of the party decorations since my Ness has always had a fascination with owls. The round base on which the cake will be placed will be covered in white fondant. Around the side and in perfect pale green script frosting, I will spell out, _'Babies are a Hoot.'_ Hah!

Now, the bottom tier of the cake will be square-shaped, and also covered in fondant. But this tier will be decorated in a whimsical pattern I've designed on my sketch pad, with part of the pattern consisting of pink and white stripes. The top tier will be a round cake fitted on top of the square tier, covered in a soft, pastel green fondant which will match the words on the base. This tier will be encircled by small and darker green pieces of fondant cut into flowers. On the side of the round cake, I'll affix an edible tree with a chocolate trunk and white chocolate and green leaves, so that the entire effect of the top tier will resemble a garden. The cake toppers will be two hand-assembled marzipan owls, one pale blue and one pale pink, and both with big owl eyes.

"That looks amazing," Edward says, grinning proudly at the sketch book on my lap. "You're so damn talented, babe."

"Thank you," I smile, gratified by his admiration.

He and I are seated side by side on the sofa in front of our fireplace. The TV above the mantle is turned on, but neither of us is paying much attention as I finalize Nessie and Anthony's cake.

"So now, when we find out the baby's sex…you're going to dye the inside of the cake itself?"

"Yep," I say. "The cake itself will be homemade vanilla, but I'll dye it either pink or blue so that when Ness and Anthony cut into the cake, the baby's gender will be revealed."

Edward chuckles, shaking his head. "That's actually pretty cool."

"It is," I agree with a chuckle of my own. "I'm excited."

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me against his side. "The kids are going to love that cake, Bella."

"I hope so," I sigh.

I've put my all into this cake – my fears, my frustrations…as well as my excitement and joy.

Tanya and I have been in touch throughout the past couple of weeks. We've met a couple of times, once here and once in L.A., to compare and combine our thoughts and ideas. The décor she's planning is…amazing, expensive, and her right to indulge in. She wasn't thrilled about the Owl theme, or about the pale pink and blue color scheme, but it's what Nessie wants, and so she's dealt with it.

"Of course they're going to love it, babe," Edward murmurs close to my ear. "It's beautiful, it's sweet, and it combines all the stuff Nessie's into right now – owls and nature and chocolate."

We both chuckle.

"Boy, she seriously is liking sweets right now, isn't she?"

Edward laughs. But then, he moves in closer and skims his warm lips up and down the side of my face. It's distracting, ticklish, and…well, distracting.

"Hey, guess what?" he breathes, nipping my earlobe. "I like sweets, too."

"Edward stop," I laugh, attempting to remain focused because I still feel like there's something missing in the base of the cake, and I can't quite put a finger on it. "I've got to get this design complete, so I can buy any last minute ingredients tonight. We've got that meeting in L.A. tomorrow, and I might not have time to…oh, fuck it."

When he buries his face against my neck and his tongue darts against the base of my ear, lips wet and warm, I completely forget about the base of the cake. What base? What cake?

The sketch pad falls to the wood floors as I allow my husband to push me over the sofa, and I wrap my arms and legs around him.

"I'll help you shop tonight…" Edward murmurs against my mouth, his lips skimming lower as he lifts my shirt, "afterward…"

"After what?" I grin when his mouth leaves mine, a soft moan escaping me when he wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks.

"After I've made you come."

My back arches, which presses my breast against Edward's mouth. He responds by opening wider and sucking on more skin.

"Edward…" I breathe as his hand disappears inside my sweats, and he pushes a finger in.

"Don't forget the market closes at eleven," I remind him in between moans, in between pushing his finger in deeper with one hand and pushing down his sweats with the other.

Edward chuckles. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, my love, but it's not even nine. I'll be done way before then."

When the doorbell rings, we freeze and meet one another's gaze, both of us wide-eyed and waiting, hoping it won't ring again.

It rings again.

"Fuck," Edward spits, slowly climbing off of me and picking up his pants, while I readjust my clothing as well.

"Probably the kids," I chuckle.

"Damn kids," he mutters as he adjusts his hard-on, rearranges the cushions, and picks up my sketch pad.

"The good thing is they have their own house now," I say as the doorbell rings again, and I make my way toward the door. "And they'll eventually be gone, and we can continue _exactly_ where we left off."

"Yeah, but don't forget the market closes at eleven," he teases me as I open the door.

Our mutual laughter dies as I open the door, and my grin completely evaporates when I take in the fear in Alice's expression.

"Alice, babe, what is it?" My voice shakes as I take her hand and gently tug her inside. She appears completely lost.

As I shut the door behind her, I hear Edward approaching swiftly before he stands next to me.

"Al, you want to sit, hon?"

She shakes her head.

Her usually gorgeous blond locks are a disarray around her pale complexion, her blue eyes glassy. She's shaking, dressed in cigarette pants and a wrinkled, stained white blouse. I vaguely realize the stain looks like Baby Peas in Sweet Vermont Cheddar – this week's TufBaby creation.

"Please, come sit down, my love," I plead, taking her hand again. But she pulls it out of my grip.

When she swallows and finally replies, her voice quivers.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

As Edward and I wait, because there's nothing else we can do, he reaches between us and threads his fingers through mine.

Alice draws in a deep breath. "Jasper had a routine prostate exam a couple of days ago; you know, because of his dad's past history."

As soon as those words pour out of her, all blood drains and pools to my feet. My throat constricts painfully, and the hand not in Edward's grip presses against my chest. The only thing that prevents me from falling apart is knowing that she needs me to be strong right now, not to make things harder.

"They called a short while ago and said…they found abnormalities. He's been scheduled for a biopsy early tomorrow."

"Al…" I breathe, reaching for her again. This time she allows me to pull her into my arms. But she doesn't cry, and neither do I. She and I…we've both been here before, but on opposite sides. And through some mutual, unspoken agreement, we won't give into despair. Just as we didn't then.

But we hold one another tightly, as tightly as we can.

See, Alice and I are sisters. Our first bond developed in college, when she was the first one to whom I opened up about my own heartbreaks…about Edward…and the baby. We were both thrilled when I met and fell in love with her brother, Sam, and we became real sisters when Sam and I married. She was my encourager and my part-time caretaker when I became pregnant with Nessie, and she became my daughter's godmother when I happily gave birth to a healthy baby. She was my rock when Sam passed away. And as hard as it must've been at first for her, she was again my biggest encourager when Edward and I found another once again. Through Edward's and my love, she found her love at forty-two. She became a mom at forty-three, and in a way, she made Edward and I parents once again, by making us Sammy's godparents.

No matter what, Alice will always be my sister.

With a deep breath, she pulls away and smiles weakly. "I hate to do this because I know we have that meeting in L.A. tomorrow, but I'd like to go with him."

"Al, of course," Edward says. "Don't even…don't even think about the meeting."

"Thanks," she nods, and then she chuckles emptily and looks at me. "But I need another favor. Do you think you can watch Sammy for us tomorrow? I don't know how long it'll-"

"Of course," I say, just like Edward just said, and I squeeze her hand the way Edward squeezed mine.

"Thanks," she repeats. "I might have to bring her really early though because the biopsy is scheduled-"

"Ally, why don't you just bring her over tonight, then?" I suggest. "That way, you and Jasper can have a quiet evening to yourselves, and get everything together in the morning without having to worry about early-morning hiccups?"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course we're sure," Edward offers once again. "We love that baby, Al. You know that."

She nods, that weak smile making another appearance. "I do know that. Thanks, guys."

When she leaves to pick up Sammy and bring her over, Edward wraps me in his arms. My mind swims in bewilderment. Thoughts of Jasper and Ally mix and mingle with memories of Sam and me. Worse than all that, there's a fear niggling at the outer edges of my mind, a fear which has been present in the back of my mind since the moment I acknowledged to myself how much I still loved Edward. It's a fear I suppose everyone with a significant other keeps hidden in the back of their minds, and it's only those of us who've once lost a significant other which are ever forced to face it. And it's a fear those of us who've lost a significant other bury even deeper because we know the devastation that fear can bring.

I can't allow myself the slightest acknowledgment of that fear because I _have_ to remain strong.

"Are you okay?" Edward murmurs in my ear.

He knows. Of course, he knows. I've told him everything.

I draw in a deep breath and look up at him. "I will be."

OOOOOOOOOO

When Al and Jasper drop off Sammy later that evening, Edward and Jasper disappear into the backyard for a bit. Edward and I haven't had much of a chance to talk, much less process everything because we've been getting ready for Sammy's sleepover.

Despite the possible devastation awaiting us, I chuckle when they arrive because seriously, all the shit one must travel with when one has a toddler. It's crazy. Al and I set up everything while Edward and Jasper are in the backyard, and Alice chuckles along with me.

"You better warn Ness and Anthony about all the effin' gear they'll be hauling around for the next ten to twelve years," she says as she stacks up pull-ups and baby wipes galore on the side table.

"Effin' geeah," Sammy repeats.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I say, lifting her into my arms. "Such a fresh mouth." I tap her lips with my forefinger. "I've warned them," I snort, holding Sammy's gaze, "but they're in La La Land. Playpens look so pretty," I say in a mockingly dreamy voice, making Sammy giggle, "and tiny diapers are so cute," I squeal, fluttering my fingers in her face, "and lavender-scented wipes are the best invention ever!"

"Evuh!" Sammy laughs, though I'm not sure she understands half of the crap I just said. Nonetheless, hearing her daughter's carefree laughter instinctively makes Alice laugh. And I can't help being grateful for that much.

She walks over to us and plants a kiss on her daughter's forehead. Then, she meets my gaze.

"Don't tell the kids, okay? Not until we know for sure what's going on, one way or another. I don't want them to worry right now."

She's a mom, like me.

"I won't," I promise.

"Thank you," she mouths, "for everything, Bella."

"Ally, we're family. Always."

"Always," she repeats.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice brought Sammy's playpen, but Sammy ends up sleeping between Edward and me because I can't bear to place her in that tiny prison. She shifts and turns all night, not because she can't sleep. Trust me, this kid is out. A sweet, little pout turns up those tiny lips as she dreams of…whatever little ones with that level of carefree innocence dream. But it's a big, comfy, king-sized bed. Nevertheless, my eyes pop open periodically throughout the night, just to check on her. Instinct, I suppose, left over from almost two decades of having my daughter under my roof. In the dimness provided by the nightlight I've left on, I watch her tiny chest rise and fall.

And every time my eyes pop open, I find Edward's eyes already open. And every time, they're either on me or on Sammy.

Instinct.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, or what I can only assume is morning, I hear the humming of some tune I don't recognize. Then, little fingers begin dribbling my lips. They move on to bounce off of my nose. Finally, when all attempts fail, the little fingers pry open my eyes.

"Good morning, Aunt BB." A sweet, caramel face peeks down at me, blond locks tangled around a head.

"Hey, munchkin, hasn't anyone taught you to keep those baby blues shut 'til the sun comes out?"

She giggles. "I'm hungwy."

"Uncle Edward makes the yummiest pancakes," I inform her, holding her hands so that I can attempt to close my eyes again.

"Uncoe Edwood is snowing."

It takes me a handful of seconds to realize she doesn't mean an abnormally cold Christmas has arrived – and early – to Newport Beach. When I hear Edward's snores, her meaning crystallizes all the more.

"Fine, fine," I sigh, reopening my eyes and smiling. "Let's go get the little gremlin fed."

I bathe and dress Sammy in one of the fifty changes-of-outfit Al and Jasper brought over. Then, I take her downstairs and set her in her highchair attachment and turn on the kitchen TV, flipping channels until she squeals in delight at some animated characters on the screen. I leave it right there.

Taking advantage of what I know from experience will only be a few minutes of distraction, I spend those few minutes making early morning cancellation calls and backing them up with texts regarding the meeting which must be rescheduled. It's barely dawn, so I don't expect much of a reply yet. Nevertheless, Anthony and Ness, who are included in those texts since Anthony was supposed to join us, reply right away. With Swan Bellies to be prepared, they're up before the crack of dawn.

 **Mom, is everything okay?** Ness texts.

 **Mom, Ness is making today's Swan Bellies, but we wanted to make sure you and Dad were okay. Why is the meeting being rescheduled?**

 **Everything is fine, guys. Your dad and I had a scheduling conflict.**

I hate lying to them, but I promised Alice I wouldn't say anything until we knew more.

 **Oh, okay,** Anthony replies. **Well then, I'll just finish helping Ness with today's creation and work from home for the rest of the day. I'll be here if you need me.**

 **Sounds good, honey. Hope you're both well today. Love you.**

 **We are, Mom. Thanks. Hope you and Dad have a good day too, and we love you too.**

I draw in a series of successive sighs, and for a few moments, I just stare at the phone. But Sammy has lost interest, and so I set the phone down.

We spend the next twenty-minutes making pancake batter. She has a ball throwing fistfuls of chocolate chips and marshmallows into the bowl – mostly into the bowl. What the kid doesn't know is she'll only be fed about a spoonful of what she's making because I'm simultaneously making a much healthier batter on the side.

While Sammy eats, I shoot Alice a text:

 **I know you and Jasper are going to be busy today, but I just want you to know that all Edward's and my thoughts are with you. Your little munchkin is safe, bathed, fed, and happy. No worries about her, okay? When and if you can, keep us apprised. Love you guys.**

 **Thanks, Bella. We just arrived at the hospital. Give Sammy a kiss from us. I'll call/text as soon as I can. Love you guys too.**

OOOOOOOOOO

I'd almost forgotten how busy a day with a toddler can be. But it's good as well. Busy. Did I say that already?

Sammy is literally a ray of sunshine, and everything she does and says is a distraction from having to think too much of whatever is going on just a few miles away, at the hospital.

Edward wakes up a short time later, and between he and I, we keep Sammy entertained while attempting to get some work done here and there. By late morning, when Sammy goes down for a nap, Edward and I are exhausted and ready for a nap of our own.

Alice and Jasper haven't been in touch yet. And while Edward and I try to keep our spirits up, I can tell he's on edge as much as I am.

For a while, as Sammy sleeps, I try to focus on perfecting and revising the menu for Nessie's party. Unfortunately, when Sammy wakes up, she's revved and full of energy.

"Hey, babe," Edward says, lifting Sammy onto his shoulders the way she loves for him to carry her, "I've got a few errands to run. If you want, I'll take Sammy, and you can have some time here to finish that design up."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Sure I'm sure," he grins. "Hey, Sammy, you want to go bye-bye with Uncle Edward?"

"Yay! Bye-bye with Uncoe Edwood!"

So I pack up a bag with about twenty pull-ups and fifteen of those fifty changes of outfit, and I hand it off to Edward. He chuckles as he leans in to kiss me.

"I'll see you in a few, okay?"

"Okay, and thanks," I chuckle in return.

"No problem. I love you, Bella." He places two fingers on my temple. "Try to relax that a bit, okay?"

"I will. I love you, too."

OOOOOOOOOO

About a half hour after they've left, I finally realize what's missing at the base of Nessie's cake. Unfortunately, as I'm sketching it out on the pad, the doorbell rings.

My heart thumps painfully. Are Alice and Jasper back already? Why didn't they call? If things went well, she would've called right away, before she left the hospital, to set me at ease.

My heart races as I rush to the door, hand shaking as I turn the knob.

"Tanya?"

Tanya exhales in obvious irritation, brushing past me and leaving the scent of expensive perfume wafting in the air. I shut the door and turn around.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" she asks. "We were supposed to meet a half hour ago at that little restaurant you like."

"Oh, fuck," I say as I remember. I lay a hand over my eyes and shake my head before reopening. "I'm sorry, Tanya," I say sincerely. "I completely forgot. I've had…a hectic morning."

Her eyes take me in from head to toe. I haven't changed out of the sweats I slept in. I've spent all night worried as hell and all day entertaining a two-year old.

"I can tell," she smirks, "but the sonogram is tomorrow, and we were supposed to hammer out a few of the last-minute details today."

"You're right, you're right," I say. Then, I wave a hand in invitation. "Do you want to come in, and we can…hammer out as much as we can?"

She looks around. Again, I'd like to point out I've had a toddler toddling around all day. The house isn't in its most spotless condition.

"Sure," she drawls.

I lead the way into the kitchen, while Tanya's stilettoes click-clack noisily over my wood floors. Now, my kitchen is usually the pride of my domain. Today, there are dirty dishes mounting the sink, pancake batter spilling over a bowl on the counter, and it looks as if a chocolate chip and marshmallow volcano erupted everywhere. I hear her stop, and when I turn around, her lips are pursed in disgust.

"I've been babysitting my goddaughter today."

"Looks like it was quite the event."

"Whatever. Let's just…" I wipe chocolate chips off a stool so she can take a seat.

She stares at the seat for a few seconds, then she turns to me. "This isn't going to take long, anyway, Bella. I have good news."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Have you ever heard of Mina Rodrigues?"

"Of course I have," I say. "She's the hottest chef in L.A. right now."

"Yes, she is," Tanya grins, her red lips spreading wide. "And her sister was recently a client of mine, who's case I won in record time. Therefore…" she pauses, her grin growing all the wider, "Mina has agreed to cater Anthony and Vanessa's party!"

Perhaps it's the exhaustion of being so fully responsible for a toddler for the first time in so long, but when I ask what party she's referring to, it's because I really don't know what party she's referring to.

"What do you mean what party?" she snorts. "The Gender Reveal Party!"

Again, I simply stare at her. My eyes narrow in bewilderment, and I place a palm on my chest. "But…I'm catering Nessie and Anthony's party," I remind her.

Tanya rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "Bella, you just said you have heard of Mina Rodrigues. Correct?" She says this super slowly as if she's talking to Sammy.

"Yes, I have," I reply just as slowly.

She exhales with dramatic flourish. "Look, I know you have your little baking and baby food business which you're trying to turn into a full-fledged corporation," she says, waving around a bejeweled hand, "but this. is. Mina. Rodrigues. We're talking wildly popular, wildly in demand, and not an Owl around."

I'm not sure how much time transpires while Tanya and I stand in the middle of my messy kitchen. Nor do I have any clue what she's thinking. I'm not even completely sure what I'm thinking because my thoughts are a jumbled mess of the past, the present, good times, and bad times. When I finally sigh, I'm not even sure what I'm about to say.

"Are you fucking kidding me here, Tanya?"

Tanya's head jerks back. "Excuse me?"

"I said are you seriously fucking kidding me here? Have you been kidding me these past few weeks with all this _bullshit_? Is someone about to jump out at me from somewhere, or is this really and truly your idea of being a parent?"

For a few seconds, she stares at me through wide, shocked eyes. But then her nostrils flare.

"Go to hell, Bella. Who the hell do you think you are to tell me how to be a parent?"

Now, _I_ jerk back. "Who do I think _I_ am? I'm Nessie's _mother_ , I'm Anthony's _mother_ -in-law, and I'm his step _mother_."

"Flip that around a bit, sweetheart, minus the shitty stepmother nonsense, and that's exactly what I am, which gives me just as many legal rights here as you."

"We're not in a courtroom, Tanya. This is family not business," I nod, "and in a family setting, no, you _don't_ have the same rights as me."

"What?" she spits.

"Do you really think a few months of texts, of giving out shitty and common advice which can be easily found on the internet, combined with a few weeks of planning a ridiculously overpriced party and buying unnecessary and outlandish trinkets earns you rights I _earned_ through almost a quarter of a century of real parenting? Almost a quarter of a century of late nights when Ness was a colicky baby followed by late nights when she was a six-year-old, terrified in a hospital because she needed her appendix out, and late nights waiting up when she was a teenager first learning to defy curfew? Almost a quarter of a century of kisses to her newborn skin," I say, my voice breaking, "kisses to her scraped knees, and kisses to her forehead when someone broke her heart? Almost a quarter of a century of tears of pride, and of joy, and of…friggin' heartache? And when I met Anthony-"

She steps toward me and hisses, "Let's get something fucking clear, Isabella Swan; Anthony is _my_ son."

"I know that." I nod and swallow thickly, shutting my eyes momentarily and furious at myself when my voice breaks yet again. "I do know that. When I met Anthony, I tried not to love him; God knows I did, but that was only at first because since then, I've loved him and cared for him as if he was…yes, as if he was mine," I cry, laying a hand on my heart. "So, tell me Tanya if, in all fairness, you honestly believe your bullshit gifts earn you the same rights I earned, the rights _Edward and I_ earned through blood, sweat, and tears for both of them?"

She glares at me.

"There's no courtroom here; no jury, so let's be honest with one another," I spit, waving a hand wildly toward her. "You can't _buy_ what you never _earned_ , and it eats you up inside, because deep down, you know you're not capable of more, and it makes your attempts increasingly ridiculous. For weeks, I've kept shut about how outlandish this party has gotten because I haven't wanted to upset the kids. But there you go. That's what I really think about your bullshit party, about your expensive decorations, and about your world-famous chef."

The silence which follows is deafening.

"Let me tell you what's going on here because I've kept shut too, but since you had your say, it's only fair I have mine," she grins. "Your issue, Isabella Swan, can be summed up with one, simple word."

"If that's what you think, Tanya, then you obviously haven't heard a word I've said because my issues need a hell of a lot more than one word to sum up."

"Oh, I heard. You're just full of shit. Your real issue is jealousy, Isabella. Plain and simple jealousy. That's what eats _you_ up. You're jealous because when you married Edward, you thought you'd claim _my_ place in Anthony's life as well."

"I wasn't trying-"

"But to your chagrin, it turns out Anthony does want his _real_ mother, regardless of all those other bullshit titles you give yourself. You're jealous because your own daughter prefers _my_ company, _my_ ideas, and _my_ advice to yours. And you're jealous because when this baby is born, it's probably going to prefer me as well. And do you know why they all prefer me, Bella?"

As much as I want to shut her up, I'm quaking too violently to even speak.

"Because you're petty. You act like you're so superior, such a modern-day, intelligent and enlightened woman," she taunts, "yet you're nothing but a small, self-righteous, petty woman who can't get over the fact that almost three decades ago, you couldn't hold on to your man."

When my eyes bulge and my mouth falls open, she grins triumphantly.

"You're a forty-five-year-old woman about to be a goddamn grandmother, yet you're still the little girl who walked into that dorm room and caught your boyfriend kissing me. You're still the little girl who ran out crying when Edward told you to go. And everything you're feeling now, all this shit you're hurling my way," she waves a hand as if she's pushing away garbage, "is because of that one moment. Because you're petty." When she tilts her head sideways, her long, straight strawberry-blond mane tilts like a waterfall with her. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you really even wanted Edward back when you bumped into him again, or if it was just your pettiness, your inane attempt to win at something I'd already won a long time ago."

When I start laughing, she looks about ready to jump me.

"Yes, Tanya; I am jealous. There's no point in denying it. I'm jealous, and yes, I hated you for a long, long time for what happened in that dorm room. But that is _so_ in the past it's not even funny. No; over the past few years, you've given me epically heftier reasons to dislike the shit out of you, namely your apathetic treatment of Anthony."

"I'm a busy woman, Bella. Unlike you and your bullshit company, I have a real job, a real _career_ , and when I don't have time, I don't have time." She shrugs.

What starts out as a snort of disbelief turns into a humorless cackle. "And so you picked him up and set him down as if he was your rag doll."

"This has nothing to do with Anthony. You couldn't care less."

"This has _everything_ to do with Anthony because I love that boy with all my heart." I stop myself before I tell her things she has no fucking right to ever know. "What's more, if you're still thinking about that dorm room, and wondering about Edward's and my relationship, I think you're the one who's still stuck there."

"Fuck you, Bella," she spits. "If I would've wanted Edward, we'd still be together."

"I may be petty and self-righteous, but you're delusional if you really believe that for a second. No, what I'm jealous of is what you're trying to claim from _my_ kids without deserving it, but more than that, I'm furious that you would think for a moment they could be bought. Edward and I raised them better than that. So you know what, Tanya? Throw them lavish parties," I shrug, waving my hands wildly. "Keep giving them your brand of advice; buy them gifts galore. Hopefully, someday, you'll learn to progress from there. Either way, when push comes to shove, they may stumble as we all do, but in the end, their principles will guide them. Now, my time is precious, so I'd like you to leave."

"Isabella Swan, you're going to regret this," she says before she turns on her stilettoes, and click-clacks out of my kitchen.

"I don't think I will!" I call after her. "And by the way, it's Isabella _Masen_!"

When I hear the door slam shut, my legs give. I sit down heavily on the stool I'd originally cleaned off for Tanya. Then, I stare off into space.

At some point, the door opens again, and Edward calls out to me. There's a lightness, a joy in his voice that for a few moments, makes me forget what just happened.

He's grinning from ear to ear, Sammy on his shoulders as he rushes into the kitchen.

"Babe, you haven't been checking your phone. Did you see Alice and Jasper's texts?"

"No," I say weakly, but I'm smiling because his grin says it all. When I start crying, he pulls me into his arms.

"Aunt BB sad?" Sammy asks.

"Aunt BB's fine," Edward replies for me. "It's okay, Bella," he coos, stroking my hair with one hand while he holds on to Sammy with the other. "It's all okay now."

And it is…mostly.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Like I said, we're almost done.**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

' **See' you soon!**


	10. Always Choose the One Who's Been There

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

 **Almost done!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. So are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9 – I'll Always Pick the One Who's Been There**

 **Anthony Robert Masen**

I lay the multi-grain tortilla out on the lightly buttered pan, doublechecking to make sure I don't have the flame up too high. I did that once, burned a basic grilled cheese and the accompanying pan so badly it was unrecognizable – the entire thing. But that was back at the beginning of my cooking lessons with the woman who's likely the best damn cook in the world. The result was a lesson I'll never forget, and not because of the destroyed pan nor because of the pungent scent of burned cheese and bread, but because of that tiny woman when she's riled up…man. There's nothing like it. She doesn't scare me though – not anymore, and we both know it. We also both know why.

So, I'm mouthing a quiet tune to myself while I cook for my wife. It's one of those tracks Dad used to play around the house when I was a kid. On a typical day around here, you'll hear more Nineties Alternative playing than any of today's hits. I mean, what were the chances two people with grunge-loving parents would meet and fall in love?

Probably better than the chances that the parents of those two people were once teenagers in love with one another, and probably better than the chances that those parents would meet and fall in love again. But there you go. You can't always start over, but you can always begin again.

" _I'm falling even more in love_ \- hey, Ness," I call out as I make my way to the fridge and pull out the cheese drawer, "you want that Manchego cheese Mom brought over the other day, or do you want cheddar?"

Over in the living room, Ness ponders her choices. "Hmmm…the baby wants Manchego, and can you layer some sliced strawberries in there too, please and thank you?"

My hand hovers just above the cheese drawer. "Let me make sure I got this straight: _the baby_ wants a quesadilla layered with sliced strawberries, Manchego cheese, and pickles?"

"Ooh, yes! And don't forget to spread the TufBaby Peas in Sweet Vermont Cheddar all over the tortilla, just like it's mayo! Oh, and a glass of cucumber water would go amazing with that. The baby'll definitely move for all that."

"Alright, my love," I chuckle, shaking my head, "I'll take your word that the baby'll move for all that."

I pull out the Manchego wedge, the fruit-infused water, the recyclable TufBaby mason jar, and the biodegradable carton of strawberries. Hands full, I push the cheese drawer shut with my knee, followed by nudging the fridge door shut with my foot. Then, I cringe to myself, glad I'm alone in the kitchen. If Mom would've seen that move, she would've chewed me out. That's another one right up there with burning pots and pans.

Again, I chuckle before I pick up those lyrics where I left off.

" _Letting go of all I've held on to."_

Ness completes the refrain from the living room _. "I'm standing here until you make me move. I'm hanging by a moment here with you!_ See, the baby's even _singing_ above moving. We got this, Anthony. God, that smells amazing already. Babe, seriously, what would this baby and I do without you?"

"No lie, babe, you'd probably starve – or feed my little munchkin nothing but sweets all day long. Poor thing."

"I can't even deny that."

Her laughter continues ringing out, even as I layer more sliced cheese, strawberries, and pickles on her weird-ass craving. There's seriously no better sound than my wife's laughter. Nonetheless, as much as I adore that woman, what I said holds true; Ness may have inherited her mad baking skills and her mind-blowing creativity from her mom, but she can't cook a basic meal to save a life. In contrast, my stepmom slash mother-in-law, Bella – or just…Mom, as I call her, creates magic out of the most mundane ingredients. But then again, Mom is great at everything.

Now, _that_ thought makes me chuckle a bit sheepishly. What is it that they say? Guys'll marry a woman who reminds them of their mother? In my case, that couldn't be further from the truth. The girl I married reminds me of her own mother.

Yeah, Life's been good to me for the past few years, ever since I met Ness. Not that I had much to complain about before her. I guess, on paper, I'm what they call the product of a "broken home," reared by a young, single dad, who was himself reared by a male chauvinist asshole.

 _Pardon me, Grandpa, but you are._

On the other end, I was born to an equally young mom, who for as far back as I can remember, barely had time to pat me on the back. And let's not even discuss grandparents on that end.

But you know what? My father, as young as he was, more than made up for anything I may have lacked. From Day One, Dad taught me what it meant to be a man. More than that, he taught me to be a decent human being. So, while I suppose a mom's affection while growing up would've been cool, Dad gave me enough affection for two parents. And before anyone thinks it was a Nineteen-sixties-type Free-For-All around these parts, let me assure you that discipline wasn't lacking either. Oh, I learned discipline, and I was given principles, which were my foundation for the rest. So really, what do I have to bitch about at Life?

Absolutely nothing.

Especially because...well, especially because Lo and behold, Life decided to give me a mom after all.

" _Forgetting all I'm lacking…"_

Once the cheese begins oozing over the tortilla's edges, I fold it over and drop the flame lower. I'll keep it there for another thirty seconds or so to make sure all the flavors mix and meld. Again, it's something Mom taught me because again, my wife owns my heart and my sweet tooth, but God help us before Dessert Time.

"Hey, Ness," I say as I walk over to the cabinet to pull out a plate, "Munchkin there better move for Daddy now, after I made it this gourmet meal, or else you're both in trouble."

She laughs and laughs, and I'm telling you, no better sound.

"Ooh, what are you going to do to us?" she asks, tone husky now.

"Thank you, God," I mouth as I pour her a glass full of cucumber water, because the constant nausea is finally over, and her Libido is now through the goddamn roof.

"Well, the munchkin is safe…for now," I grin, "but _you_ , Mrs. Masen, while you eat this, I'm gonna undress you and ravage you within an-"

Over on the counter, my phone vibrates.

"Shit."

"Anthony Masen, you'd better finish that thought right now!" Nessie orders. "Better yet, come here and-"

"Hold on, Baby," I chuckle, "I've got a call. But how about you hold on to _that_ thought."

As I set down the pitcher and pick up my phone, I sigh a bit when I see the number.

It's not that her calls bother me, but…they're usually not all that important, and I was in the middle of something good – or rather, about to be in the middle of something good. So, as I hit the green button, I remember those years away in college when Dad drilled me with useful life lessons. One was that, regardless of the rush one might be in, unless it would put you in some form of physical danger to answer a call, one should at least pick up the call and ensure oneself that the person on the other line isn't in some sort of physical danger before you brush them off.

Therefore, I fully intend to obtain that assurance before I promise to call back later – much later.

"Yeah, Ma, what's up?" The words pop out in an admitted rush. Nevertheless, Tanya doesn't seem to notice.

"You'll _never_ believe what just happened to me." Her voice bristles with fury.

My brow furrows, honestly more out of curiosity than concern because she's obviously not in any physical danger.

"What happened to you?"

"That goddamn, self-righteous…mother-in-law of yours," Tanya growls through teeth that sound outrageously clenched. "First, she left me waiting for over a half-hour, when we were supposed to meet for lunch. Then, when I went looking for her at her house because my fucking time is valuable, she cursed me out, said the most offensive things to me in the crudest language imaginable, and finally, she kicked me out of her house!"

From the first moment when Tanya mentions Mom, the fine hairs on my forearms begin to prickle. By the time she's done, I think they've all been scorched off.

"Anthony?" Ness calls out from the living room.

I cover the phone's mouthpiece. "I'll be right there, babe. Give me a minute."

Then, I open the sliding doors to the backyard and step out. This obvious clusterfuck might take a few.

"Maybe you want to fill in the blanks there a bit," I say as calmly as possible.

"What blanks, Anthony? She's self-righteous, petty, vulgar, and she treated _me_ like garbage!"

Again, I keep my tone as composed as I can manage. "Ma, you're an attorney, and I know I don't need to tell you it's all in the details."

Strangely enough, in a way, she's completely right. The details are basically irrelevant in _this_ particular case.

See, I love Tanya; 'course I do. The woman carried me for nine months and actually went through with the birth. With my wife carrying our baby now, I'm only just beginning to understand what kind of crazy crap all that entails.

But let's back that up for a second here because there are a couple of ' _Buts'_ which go with all that, and they're pretty significant ones.

Now, Dad has always been open with me because that's the sort of relationship he and I have. Nonetheless, I know there are things he's never told me, and again, as a guy who's about to be a father himself, I'm starting to see why. It's the instinct to protect, which kicks in from the very first moment; the very first instant you find out you're about to be a father. And I can see how part of that instinct entails keeping certain things from your kid that you think might turn them into psychopaths down the line.

So, here's the first ' _but_.'

 _But_ …I'm not stupid. I doubt Tanya was as ecstatic as is my Ness when she was carrying me. Again, I'm starting to see that there are things you don't tell your kids, but if Tanya _was_ all blissed out during pregnancy, I must've been one big-ass disappointment at birth. That elation sure as hell died once I popped out, and stayed dead while I was a kid…and while I was a teenager…and for the most part, 'til about a year or so ago, when it was inexplicably semi-revived.

The second ' _but_ ,'

 _But_ …while I love my biological mother because she's my biological mother, I also see Tanya for what she is.

"The details?" I prompt when she still hasn't answered.

She huffs. "You want details? She's jealous of me, Anthony. She's always been jealous of me. She's jealous because when we were kids, your father chose me over her, and she's never gotten over it."

"Holy _fuck_ ," I spit silently, momentarily pulling the phone away from me as I marvel at the fact that she just went there. When I return the phone to my ear, she's still going.

"…always been nasty to me, always ready to ruin all my ideas and my plans."

"Exactly what ideas and plans of yours has she ruined?"

"This Gender Reveal Party, for one! I don't know if you know this, but it was _my_ idea," she barks, "but I bet she didn't even mention-"

"No. No, she did mention you," I say, trying to maintain an even tone, "although the way she put it, Ness and I were under the impression it was something you _both_ came up with together."

"You see what I mean?" she says. "No, Anthony; it was _all_ me. _She_ wanted to throw you both some shitty Baby Shower, which she probably would've turned into some shitty, hoe-down affair in a barn or some such place, serving pigs-in-a-blanket and hush puppies, and with her shitty Owl cake as the evening's centerpiece. You should've seen how jealous she was because _I_ was in charge of hiring the decorators for the Gender Reveal Party, while all she did was sketch a shitty cake, day in and day out, in that stupid sketch pad of hers."

"That cake isn't-"

"I got tired of it, Anthony! So you know what I did? I called in another favor and not only did I get you and Ness one of the best party decorators in L.A., I scored Mina Rodrigues, that's right, _Mina. Rodrigues_ ," she repeats, "as the caterer for the party! Now, _Mina's_ going to outsource the appetizers, Mina is going to cater the food, and Mina's pastry assistant will design a cake that'll outshine any fucking cake that low-class bi-"

"Hold up there, Ma. Hold. up."

My pulse races wildly. My breaths erupt so quick and shallow, I've got to take a few seconds before I can calm myself enough to say more.

"Hold up. You mean to tell me…" I pinch the bridge of my nose, "you mean to tell me you went in there…into _Mom's_ kitchen…in _her_ house, and you _told_ _her_ she was no longer in charge of catering for _her_ daughter's party because you didn't agree with her vision for it, and so you went and hired some bullshit, big-shot chef, without consulting with the woman who's probably the best goddamn chef and baker on this planet?"

"Anthony-"

"Wait, wait, wait." I fist my hair. "Let's set aside for the moment just how goddamn great Mom is at what's _her_ career. Let's say she was the opposite of what I just said. Let's say she was the worst goddamn cook on the planet, yet she still took time out of her schedule, not simply to hire people, but to pour her goddamn heart and soul into the catering of this party?"

"You're failing to see-"

"No; you're failing to see how disrespectful," I spit through clenched teeth, "you were, on…so many goddamn levels that my mind'll goddamn _explode_ " – I'm so riled up I gesture to my head as if it's exploding – "if I try to count them."

For a few seconds, total silence fills the air space between us.

"You, young man, seem to be forgetting who's side you need to be on in this."

As she herself would say, Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom, _that_ is when I completely lose it.

"Tanya! This isn't about taking sides! For Ness and I, this has _never_ been about taking sides. It's been about _trying_ , regardless of past mistakes, trying to build a complete family for our kid – aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfather, great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers, regardless of whether some were assholes in the past or not. We wanted to make our kid's family as complete as we could make it because…because he was already going to be missing a granddad at birth. So we tried to build some goddamn Utopia-like, Promised Land of family."

I swallow and shake my head as my eyes glare unseeing at the landscape around me – a landscape Dad helped me plant when we bought the house. A landscape Mom helped Ness design.

"God," I snort, "like blind, naïve assholes, we got to thinking our poor kid needed all its family around, no matter what, or it would be deprived at birth or some shit. Like I don't know better than that. And it looks like…" I smile sadly, "it looks like that's where I went wrong. It looks like I haven't been thinking clearly."

"Obviously!" Tanya hisses. "Look, just tell that woman to leave the party to me, and we can forget about this entire incident. She's your wife's mother, so your wife will possibly side with her, but if you tell Vanessa that _you_ want me-"

"Tanya…Ma," I say quietly, "haven't you heard a word I've said? I mean, come on; I know in a courtroom you've got to make up your own truths and stick with them, but come on here."

"Don't tell me you're going to side with _her_ , Anthony? Anthony," she says when I fail to instantly assure her, "from the beginning, I've watched your father fall for her Little-Miss-Innocent act, ever since we were kids. It's why our marriage didn't work, by the way. Throughout our entire relationship, your father's head was stuck on the ideal of some perfect woman, who never really existed. So you can blame her for that. But there's a difference between Innocence and Self-Righteousness, and that woman is the latter. Now, you're a smart, young man, Anthony, because you were born to an intelligent woman. Are you going to take the side of a woman who's been a fucking thorn since Day One, or are you going to side with your real mother?"

I hear the muted yet tell-tale signs of traffic on her end: horns blaring, the swoosh of tires, a muffled radio passing her by.

"Are you parked?"

"What?"

"Are you on the phone while driving or are you parked somewhere?"

"I'm pulled over on the side," she says.

"Good. Good; don't drive while you're on the phone. Tanya, this was never supposed to be about taking sides, but if you force me to, I'll always pick the woman who's been there for me-"

"You know what? Don't even finish that, Anthony. Look, it turns out I can't plan this party right now, anyway. This latest case I'm on…it's gotten more involved than I expected it to."

"That's fine." As I look up, I see Ness…and my Dad approaching through the kitchen, heading for the sliding doors. "I think Ness and I are going to reconsider this entire party anyhow."

"Fine. Hope all is well. I'll be in touch soon."

"Alright. Take care."

"You too."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Two to three chapters left.**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

' **See' you soon!**


	11. Ch 10 What 15 Minutes with Sam Taught Me

**A/N: Good afternoon! So sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but RL was super crazy last week. It's barely slowed down, but with only a couple of chapters left, I hope to have this story completed by the end of the week. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine, as are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – What Fifteen Minutes with Sam Taught Me**

 **Edward**

"Come on, Pop. Anthony's in the kitchen, and- oh crap!"

I follow Ness into the kitchen, where the sharp stench of charred cheese, pickles, and – is that strawberries? – attacks our nostrils. At first, as I snatch the pan off the burner, spin around, and empty the blackened contents into the garbage bin, I don't think much of it beyond its stench. After all, much like shit, burned food happens.

Then, I spot Anthony on the other side of the sliding glass doors leading into his and Ness's backyard. The way he grips his cell phone and glares up at the blue sky makes me wonder if whoever's on the other end of that call is the reason he's taken himself out there.

"Crap, crap, crap!"

Meanwhile, Ness chuckles as she turns off the burner and waves her arms wildly, attempting to dispel the smoke. But the chuckle contains a tinge of confusion.

"Boy, that must be some involved convo. Anthony never forgets he's got something cooking; he's kinda like my mom that way."

I slide open the patio door to rid the kitchen of the lingering fumes.

"Well, you know what your mom says of burned food."

When Anthony looks up and spots his wife and me, he doesn't grin or wave. Instead, his brow furrows deeper. All of it – the furrowed brow, the clenched jaw, the burned pan, and the haze of smoke, begin to shed light on who he's likely speaking with.

"She thinks it's a portender of bad news," Ness replies.

Again, she chuckles, but when her eyes flash toward Anthony, they narrow before swiftly returning to me. I get the feeling that despite her show of humor, she may not find her mom's favored method of foreboding all that wacky. Mind you, I've made no mention of why I'm here, but I'm sure she's noticed the stiff set of my shoulders. Now, she's probably comparing Anthony's dark expression to mine. Like her Mom, Ness is neither stupid nor slow – perhaps a bit distracted lately, but by no means stupid or slow.

When the smoke clears, I find her standing in front of me. She smiles sweetly.

"So, what's going on, Pop?"

"Can't a dad slash stepdad slash father-in-law slash about-to-be-grandpop stop by for an unannounced visit?"

Her right eyebrow quirks up high. "You're welcome at any time, and you know that. But you're here by yourself, and you look about ready to ground either Anthony or me. What's more, Anthony looks about ready to choke the shit out of whoever's on the phone. _And_ , as Mom would say, we've got burned food. Sooo…what's up?"

"Perceptive," I chuckle, reaching out and ruffling her hair. "Just like your mom."

"I did learn from the best; I won't deny it," she says in a sing-song tone. "Nonetheless, _you_ haven't denied you want to ground us," she smirks.

"Come on, kiddo," I sigh. "Let's get your husband off the phone, and we can talk. No grounding; I promise."

As I slide the door closed, I catch the last couple of words in Tony's call. "Alright. Take care." His tone is composed yet strained, and he ends the call with nostrils flaring. So, maybe he's not all that composed after all.

"Was that who I think it was?"

"Depends on who you think it was," the smart-ass replies. "Where's Mom? I need to talk to her," he says impatiently. His gaze moves to the sliding doors as if he expects to see Bella walk through the kitchen at any moment.

"Mom's not here, Anthony," Ness, says, "and who was that?"

When Ness receives the same non-reply, she turns back to me. "Wait a minute, Pop, where _is_ Mom, and why _isn't_ she with you?"

"She's home taking a nap."

"Taking a nap." Ness repeats the words slowly, her tone dry, but her brows knit together in much the same way as her mom's tend to do. "Since when does Mom nap?"

"Since we babysat Sammy overnight and most of the day today."

"You guys babysat Sammy overnight," she echoes again, nodding slowly as she considers this. " _Why_ did you guys babysit Sammy overnight?" Then turning back to Anthony: "And _who_ was on the phone?"

No reply.

"Excuse me," – hands on hips now, she glares from Anthony to me and back – "but what the hell is going on here?"

Apparently, that's about as much suspense as Anthony can bear to keep his wife in. Reaching for her hand, he weaves their fingers together and tugs her toward him.

"Ness, babe, that was my…mother. Now, I don't have all the details, but I have enough to tell you that some crazy sh-"

"Hold on, Anthony. Timeout," I say, bouncing my fingers off my palm. "Before we get into all that, would you two mind if we talked about a couple of things?" I motion with my jaw toward the patio table.

"Guys, I'm starting to worry here; is Mom really okay?"

Ness's voice quivers. Her free hand opens against her still-flat stomach, and that's about as much of her concern as _I_ can take. Yeah, I'm pissed off, but the last thing I want is to cause Ness any excessive anxiety. Unlike Bella, there are most definitely things I believe my stepdaughter slash daughter-in-law not only needs to hear but is more than healthy enough to do so. Nonetheless, I take her free hand and squeeze it reassuringly because yeah, I'm pissed off, but not with her.

"I promise you, Ness, your mom is just fine. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

She breathes a sigh of relief. "As long as everyone's healthy."

Despite the tension, I can't help offering her a tender smile because she's _so damn much_ like her mother.

"You're right that your mom napping during the day is an oddity, to say the least, but we were caring for a toddler for almost twenty-four hours straight, and the destruction left behind was epic."

This makes her laugh, and with her fears for the most part alleviated, she draws in a breath and smiles up at me.

"Okay, Pop," she chuckles. "I'll buy it."

"Hey, hey, hey, not so fast," I warn. "If you'll recall, I did say there are things I'd like to discuss with both of you. So, please, go ahead and take a seat."

"Hold up, Dad. I'm not sure you're aware of all what went down today," Anthony insists, holding up his cell. "I just found out that-"

"I'm fully aware of what went down today, Anthony, and I've got a pretty good idea of how that phone call went as well." I jerk my jaw toward his phone. "But if it's okay with you and Ness, I'd like to proceed here in the order of events. I think it might shed light on why we've all reacted to certain recent events, in certain manners."

See, here's the thing: My son and daughter-in-law are no longer children. What's more, I'm in their house – in their home. _'My house, my rules,_ ' is what I used to tell Anthony on those few occasions when he acted up so badly I wanted to put him through a wall. So now, we're in their house, their rules. I can't exactly order them to shut up and sit down already – though I'm sorely tempted.

"Sure, Dad."

Leading Nessie by the hand, they take side by side seats, fingers still entwined. When they look up expectantly, I rub my jaw with the back of my hand, pacing back and forth as I search for the correct starting point; although, really, there's only one.

"I realized something last night. See, I had all these thoughts running through my head," I say, making a circular motion around my head, "about how kids change us. They change our lives and our priorities and our perspective. Sometimes, they're all we can think about; about how every one of our actions will affect _their_ lives."

Despite the admitted tension circling this conversation, at the mention of kids, Ness and Anthony gaze at one another with more than a little tenderness. Anthony releases his wife's hand and lays it palm flat on her stomach.

"I think we're starting to see that, Dad, and…" he forces himself to break eye contact with his wife so he can look up at me, "I think I know where you're headed with this. We've neglected to see-"

I stop pacing and look down at him. "Indulge me, here, Tony, and let me take things back a bit further first."

Anthony holds my gaze and snorts. "Alright, old man, but honestly, I'm really anxious to speak with Mom. I don't want her worrying more than she already has."

There's no way in this world I could love my son more than I do, but every single time he says or does something to show me how much he loves and respects my wife…his stepmom, well…

"What would Mom be worrying about?" Ness asks.

With a deep breath, I resume my pacing. "A few things, Ness. For one, a couple of days ago, during a routine prostate exam, Jasper had a scare."

Ness's breath hitches, and she clamps a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God."

Anthony's features drain of all color. "Jesus, Dad. Do you mean Uncle Jasper has-"

"Shit. No, no, guys." I stop pacing. "I'm screwing this up. Look, Jasper had multiple tests performed early this morning, yes, which is why he and Alice left Sammy with us overnight. But all the tests came back with the same conclusion: _no cancer_ ," I stress clearly and concisely.

"Oh, thank God," Anthony breathes, laying a hand against his chest.

Ness pulls her hand back from her mouth. "That must've been a nightmare for Jasper and Aunt Alice…and for Mom." She pauses. "I can only imagine the thoughts which must've- I mean, the memories…of…never mind."

When Ness shakes her head, and drops her gaze to her lap, I crouch in front of her and take her hand, waiting for her to lift her eyes.

"Yes, Ness. Besides feeling terrified for Jasper, Alice, and Sammy, your mom's mind was on your dad last night. We spoke about him," I nod, "because your mom knows she doesn't have to keep her thoughts of him from me."

She studies me through large, blue eyes.

"Ness, your mom…my wife…my Bella feels things super strongly. She's so completely dedicated to those she loves, that I wouldn't expect anything less than that her thoughts would've been on Sam. Her total and complete devotion to absolutely everything and everyone she loves is one of the many things I adore about her. That being said," I offer her a slight smile, "I'm about to admit something here, which I'm a bit ashamed to admit."

"There's no shame here, Pop," she says softly. "We're family." In my periphery, I see Anthony squeeze her hand.

"Thank you, kiddo. Well, where your mom has always been a dedicated woman, I've always been a jealous man; sometimes to the point of stupidity."

"Dad, you don't have to tell us things that aren't our business," Anthony says.

"But I think it _is_ your business, up to a point, at least, especially if it affects you both. You see," I draw in a breath, "my jealousy is one of the things which destroyed Bella's and my relationship, back when we were kids. That zest for life she has? Well, she's always had it," I grin. "Since we were kids, she wanted to live life to its fullest potential; she wanted Paris, new adventures, new people, and I…I wanted to keep her from all of it."

"Why?" Nessie asks.

"Because I didn't trust in her ability to love as completely as she does. So, I saw everything as competition for her love. Back then, I was too immature to see what I see now. Therefore, instead of encouraging her, I tried to hold her back, and I lost her."

 _And we lost our son_ , I think to myself. But I won't say that aloud; not now.

Nevertheless, I suppose that's where Nessie's thoughts wander as well. A silent tear rolls down her cheek, and as she cradles my face in one hand, she strokes her stomach with the other.

"Oh, Pop, I _am_ sorry things ended that way. I can't even imagine…"

I cover Nessie's hand with mine. "I didn't mean to upset you on that front. Ness, here's my point in bringing up my jealousy: _I_ wasn't ready for your mom back then. She went on to have the time of her life in Paris. She went to college over there, she met your Aunt Alice, she discovered her love for baking…and she met a man who _was_ ready for her, who was ready to love her the way she deserved to be loved."

"My dad," she smiles sympathetically.

"Yes, your dad," I smile in return. "Life proceeded the way it was meant to; otherwise, none of us would be where we are today. That's part of the reason why, as much of a jealous man as I've always been, I've _never_ been jealous of Sam. Because not only do I know your mom _felt_ loved and cherished by him, I know for a fact that she _was_ loved and cherished by him. And so how could I begrudge him?"

"But Dad, though I'm sure it's true…how would you know that much?" Anthony asks.

With another breath, I straighten up and resume my pacing.

"Like I said, I had a strange, jumble of thoughts running through my head last night: what it means to be a father, a parent, a caregiver, the enormity of the responsibility yet the inherent joy and pride in it. And along with that, the sheer terror that must grip you when you think that caregiver role, that responsibility might be cut short. See, Jasper and I spoke last night, so…I knew those thoughts were running through his head, and I imagined," I stop and look at Ness, "I imagined it must've been what your dad thought as well when he found out he was sick."

"Dad…" Anthony warns warily.

"I imagined it so much that I ended up dreaming of Sam until I realized…it wasn't a dream. It was a memory."

"A memory?" Ness asks.

Once again, I crouch down, but this time between them.

"Do you guys remember a day long, long ago, about sixteen years ago, actually-"

"Sixteen years ago?" Anthony snorts. "Dad, sixteen years ago I was ten."

"Yeah, Pop, and sixteen years ago, I was seven. Anthony and I don't share any mutual memories from back then because we didn't know one another." Ness offers me an indulgent smile as if forgiving me or my moment of senility.

"It was the holiday season," I continue, "the first time I took Anthony along to New York City on a business trip. We had a shitty time because I was busier than I thought I'd be, and Uncle Jasper, who's never been much of a tourist-"

"Kept me at the hotel pool all day and yelled at me if I wandered into the deep end because he couldn't swim." Anthony grins. "Yeah, I remember that trip."

I chuckle. "Yeah, _that_ trip. Fortunately…or maybe I should say, _fatefully_ ," I breathe, "on our last day in New York, I managed to finish up early enough to take you to that toy store with the floor piano. You'd seen it in a movie, and there was nothing you wanted more that year than to play that piano."

"The Big Piano at FAO Schwarz?" Ness exclaims. "I used to love that piano too!"

Anthony snorts. "Yeah, I remember that piano."

"Being unfamiliar with New York holidays, I hadn't expected the long-ass line for the piano awaiting us when we arrived. It was at least an hour long, and we had to be at the airport in about an hour."

"Yeah, yeah; I recall that too."

"Hey, my dad took me to FAO Schwarz to play that piano once too! I think it was during the holidays as well. Hmm." Ness's brows knit together as she jogs her memory.

"Well, because of that line Dad mentioned, he ordered me to turn right back around as soon as we walked in; broke my poor, ten-year-old heart," Anthony smirks.

Ness chuckles sympathetically and rakes her fingers through his hair. "Aww, babe. So, you didn't get to play the Big Piano?"

Here, I rest my behind over the stamped concrete, my elbows on my knees, and I watch and wait.

"It actually turned out fine," he grins, waving off his wife's sympathy. "Some guy noticed I was about to cry," he snickers, "so he told me to go ahead and share his daughter's piano space." Anthony stares straight ahead, his gaze assuming a faraway look. "I remember she was a tiny little thing, who barely took up any room, so I got most of her space to myself anyhow. But man, as small as this girl was, she sure stomped on those keys like she meant business. After a while, we started playing songs together – I played the black keys, while she-"

"while I played the white keys," Ness murmurs.

Anthony's eyes dart back to her.

"You wore…you wore a cap," she adds.

He stares at her in total bemusement.

"It was a baseball cap," Ness continues. The rest erupts in a heated rush as if the memory is overpowering her. "I don't remember what team it was, but I remember we started arguing because you said they were the best baseball team ever, and I said-"

"You said the Yankees were the best baseball team ever," Anthony whispers. "And I said you were only parroting what your dad must've told you because-"

"because girls didn't know shit about sports. Then, I threatened to tell on you for cursing and for saying girls didn't know about sports, unless-"

"unless I let you try on my cap."

Ness grins impishly. "I wasn't really going to tell on you. I just wanted your cap."

"And for a minute, I considered letting you keep it…because you looked so damn cute in it, but I'd just recently gotten it signed by Orel Hershiser." Anthony offers her a rueful smile.

"Orel Hershiser? So, Orel Hershiser's signature trumped my cuteness?"

"When I was ten, yeah, it did."

They both laugh heartily. But soon, their mutual laughter evaporates. They take one another in with the same sort of bewilderment I experienced in the early hours of the morning when it all hit me.

"Holy crap," Anthony says.

"Oh, my God."

"Holy…we met when we were kids." Anthony fists his hair. "Holy crap, Ness; we met when we were kids."

For a few moments, they silently hold one another's gazes.

"I can't believe that was you."

"Neither can I."

"That's so damn weird."

"Do you think it was fate?"

For a while, they go on with different variations on their mutual disbelief and wonder, comparing and contrasting, making sure they got it right, that they're not talking about two different FAO Schwarz's in New York City around the holidays, or of another blond, little girl in a red, velvet dress, who blackmailed a fresh-mouthed, Dodgers cap-wearing young boy for making a thoughtlessly sexist remark while they stomped on a floor piano.

Meanwhile, I sit back and wait, accepting I've been completely forgotten – until Ness abruptly cuts off and turns her eyes to me.

"Pop, I only have vague memories of that day, mostly of the boy in the baseball cap and of us playing the piano and laughing together, but…" her voice quivers, "but I've also got a hazy image in there of my dad talking with another man. I can't _see_ the man's face." She swallows. "It was you, Pop. You and my dad…you met."

"We did," I nod. "Sam and I met."

She chokes back a sob, but before Anthony can pull her into his arms, I push myself off the ground and kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in mine.

"Here's the crux, Ness. There's a moment in time that's bound us together, and we didn't even know it. In those fifteen minutes or so of conversation which your dad and I shared sixteen years ago, I came away knowing how much he loved, respected, and cherished his wife. And although it took me this long to recall we'd met, I think some part of me always knew, and always respected him for it. What's more, in those fifteen minutes, I learned how dedicated his wife was to him and to the little girl she struggled to keep safe from the moment they conceived her."

"Me," Ness whispers shakily. "She's always struggled to keep me safe – from the very beginning."

"Yeah, kiddo. You. And you know what? Those fifteen minutes with Sam made me realize that I could never settle for anything less than the same sort of woman: a woman completely dedicated to those she loves. Sam's wife was the sort of woman who loved with all her heart and soul, and that was the only sort of woman who would do for me…and for my son."

My eyes shift to Anthony, who's watching me through glassy eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he nods slowly in understanding.

"She holds on tight, Ness, because throughout all the trials your mom has faced, she's never stopped struggling to keep those she loves safe. And as your dad…as Sam knew, there's no better sort of woman to have as a wife and as a mother."

"Oh, Pop," Ness chokes before she flies out of her seat and meets me on the ground, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I haven't been paying too much attention to Mom's feelings lately, have I?" she whispers brokenly.

I chuckle softly and stroke her hair. "You've been getting ready to be a mom."

She pulls back and meets my eyes. "And there's no better person than my mom from whom to learn to be a great one."

"I agree."

"I do know it," she smiles. "I guess I've just been…distracted."

"Understandable," I say. "Yes, other things go on, but the crux of it is that, as you just said yourself, we're a family. Apparently, we've been one for longer than we even knew. There will always be distractions, but we'll be just fine."

"We will, Pop. And Pop…" she whispers, "I want you to know I loved my dad, but there's no better man than you to teach Anthony and me how to bestow life lessons to this baby someday – without having to resort to too much grounding," she teases. "So, _thank you_ , Pop."

I swallow thickly, and for a few moments, I'm unable to speak. When I look at her, I see the tiny little girl I once met, sixteen years ago. I remember watching her that day and wondering what it would've been like to have a daughter of my own – a Daddy's Girl.

I feel as if…I now know.

"Don't get too cocky. I'm sure there'll be some grounding going on in this household in the next few years."

She laughs.

"Hey, Dad," Anthony says. Ness and I both look up at him. He's watching us with a soft smile on his face. "Do you think Mom's up from that nap now? Cuz I think both Ness and I have a few things we need to say to her."

I draw in a deep breath, so full of pride in these kids that I could burst.

"I can almost guarantee your mom is doing anything but napping right now. Why don't you guys take a ride with me, and we'll find out?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **We're almost done. :)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	12. Ch 11 Anthony Again

**A/N: Thank you so much for your wonderful thoughts!**

 **So, those of you who know me know I underestimate chapters sometimes. This was supposed to be a longer chapter, but…I think it reads better as two separate ones. What's more, this entire story was supposed to go about 10 – 12 chapters, but we're looking at 13 – 14ish. Either way, we're almost there. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. So do all mistakes.**

 **Chapter 11 – Anthony…Again**

* * *

 **Edward, where are you?**

 **I'll be home in a few minutes. Had a nice nap?**

 **No. This is why, as a rule, I don't nap. I wake up feeling shittier.**

 **Aw, babe. I'm sorry your nap wasn't productive.**

 **I slept, so I suppose it was productive. But when I woke up, you were gone. So all in all, not worth the shut-eye.**

 **LOL. Glad to know you missed me – even though you were sleeping. Be there soon.**

With a sigh, I set the phone aside and cast my gaze around the spacious great room. Glass encompasses almost half of the west-facing wall, ending at floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that open onto the backyard. Besides the kitchen and the bedroom, both which face west, this room is probably my favorite in the house. When the sun sets in late afternoons, it bathes this entire section of our home, kindling every corner, most especially this room with its massive windows, and lighting it in a golden glow. Oftentimes, Edward and I sit on the plump, white leather couch in this room just to watch the sunset over Anthony's Tree and frame its emerald palms in a soft melon hue.

This particular afternoon, I'm sitting on the couch in which I involuntarily knocked out, watching the sunset, with my sketchbook open uselessly on my lap – ever since I was more or less told to shove my owl cake design where the sun don't shine. So, in other words, where an owl would feel at home.

In this emptyheaded state of mind, I happen to notice the sun illuminating tiny particles, which dance in the corners and shimmer mid-air like specks of diamonds. They're dust by any other name, yes, but they're a beautiful sight; soothing in their glittering brilliance – so long as one allows oneself to forget they're dust. The particles do add a certain touch of mystical charm to the approaching SoCal twilight – so long as you don't think about the dust rag you forgot to pass over the mantle while you were babysitting. Just put that bit out of mind, forget it's dust, and you'll be fine. Just don't think of the dust.

"Damn it!" I growl as I shoot off the couch and toward the mantle. The sketchpad makes a muffled thump where it hits the wood floors. I don't turn to pick it up. Instead, I use my bare palm to swipe at the thin layer of not-so-sparkly-anymore-are-you dust resting on the mantle; alas, the pitfalls of a west-facing room.

"Mina Rodrigues to cater the Gender Reveal," I mutter, spitting out the poor, innocent woman's name as if it's a curse while I wipe and examine the mantle from every angle. "So what if she's the hottest chef in L.A. right now? It's a gender reveal party! And so damn what if she has restaurants opening in New York, Miami, and San Francisco in the next few months? It's a gender reveal party!"

When my voice quivers weakly, I straighten and wrangle up even more indignant fury.

"You'd _almost_ think she did it on purpose, wouldn't you? Replacing me with someone who's got her own pre-packaged cuisine line coming out soon. But you know what?"

Fitting myself under the mantle, I glare up at the wooden underside, zeroing in on the nooks and crannies lest some sneaky, fucking mite is attempting to hide in there. Then I dig my fingers in like I'm a five-year-old digging for treasure.

"Who fucking cares if Mina Rodrigues has her own TV show premiering on The Food Network next week? _I've_ got an organic baby food line and a few, select restaurants begging to carry my hand-crafted pastries, _and_ I know how to design a mean mother-fucking owl cake. Take that, bitches!"

Then…I drop my head and bury it into my filthy hands.

"But this isn't about me, is it? It's my babies' gender reveal party, not mine, and neither one requested an owl cake. That was my idea. And…Tanya _is_ Anthony's mom," I murmur shakily, "and she's Nessie's mother-in-law, and if they want Mina Rodrigues, I have to accept-"

"Bella?"

With a gasp, I spin around and straighten – and totally fucking forget I'm under a mantle.

"Ouch! Shit!"

"Oh, babe." Edward rushes over to me and replaces the dirty and dusty hand I'm using to stroke my throbbing head with his warm and clean one. "What were you doing?" he chuckles softly, wiping what I assume is dirt off my cheek.

"Cleaning."

"The underside of the mantle, with your bare hands?"

I shrug my shoulders and look up at him. "I don't think it's been cleaned in a while, at least."

"Maybe…because it's the underside of a mantle?" His lips twitch, but then he wraps me in his strong arms and groans in satisfaction as he lifts my feet off the floor. "That noggin' okay?"

"It'll live."

"Good. I'm pretty fond of it." He chuckles and sets me down, gently kissing the top of my head. "Feeling better, Bella?"

"I suppose," I sorta-semi lie and sigh. "No matter what else is going on, I'm so damn grateful Jasper's okay."

"I know, babe," Edward agrees quietly, running his fingers through my hair. "So am I."

"I would've never wanted Ally and Sammy to go through-" I shake my head. "Besides which, all the teasing I send Jasper's way is just my way to say 'I love you' to the guy."

Edward snorts. "I know, and I happen to know that's exactly why he gives it right back to you."

"I know," I smile. "Anyway, thank God that ended well. Kind of puts things in perspective, doesn't it? Our health…and you having actually met Sam once. What's a heartless bitch's bitching and an insult to my culinary skills to those things?"

"Bella, putting things in perspective doesn't mean we downplay the rest."

"Edward, where were-"

Voices and footsteps wander into the room, distracting me. Nessie and Anthony stride in hand in hand, both smiling softly. Another thing that never changes, no matter what: the way my heart jumps in contentment at the sight of these two, whether I see them separately or together.

"Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?"

They both approach and kiss either one of my cheeks.

"Hey, Mom," Ness says gently.

"How are you feeling, Mom?" Anthony asks tenderly.

"I'm fine."

Each one has his and her respective heads tilted sideways. They both offer me one of those massive 'Aw, bless her little heart' looks as if I just announced I came in fifth place at my own pity party.

"What. The hell?" I sweep my gaze from them to Edward, who stands a few feet away now. His hands are dug deep in his jean pockets, and he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Come on, Edward," I sigh, throwing up my hands. "You didn't."

"Bella..."

"Mom…"

"Mommy…"

"Agh," I spin around and face that damn mantle again, gripping tightly to its rim with both hands. For a few seconds, we're all silent.

"Edward, since when do we do this, babe? Since when do we go back to our kids and set them in the middle of-"

"Bella, I wouldn't-"

"Mom, Pop would never-"

"Mom."

I turn and face the Spawn because of the three, he's the only one whose tone sounds more purposeful rather than sympathetic.

"She's your Mom, Anthony," I say, "and you shouldn't be set in the middle of our issues." I shift my gaze to Nessie. "Neither of you should; especially not now."

"Mom," he says again, snorting, "my mother called me this afternoon, right after she came over here."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I send up a silent plea. _Good Lord, please don't let her have told him-_

"I'm pretty sure she told me just about everything," he continues. "Didn't sound like she held much back."

My cheeks literally burn – no, seriously; they're aflame – in mortification.

"Oh, my God, Anthony. I'm so sorry," I whisper. My mind replays the blowup – the things I said, the language I used. "I have no excuse," I say, my eyes squeezed tight as I fight to keep my voice even. I won't take advantage of their pity here. "My only defense is to say-"

"Stop it, Mom," Anthony says swiftly, in a tone that makes my eyes fly open. "Don't you dare apologize."

"But…" I frown, "but if she told you everything, then you know I made some crazy accusations, and I used some _pretty_ unpleasant language-"

"Mom…" he chuckles softly, offering me a small smile before he looks at his father. "Dad, I'm going to say some things here I've never mentioned, okay?"

Edward nods slowly. "Say whatever you need to say, Anthony. We're family."

"Exactly," Anthony says. "We're family."

Standing at my other side, Nessie's hand suddenly slides inside mine. Wordlessly, she weaves our fingers together.

"Mom," Anthony says, "my mother…Tanya has been doing this since I was a kid."

I hear Edward's heavy breath from the other side of the room, but I keep my eyes on Anthony.

"My parents' marriage ended long before I could reason, but ever since I've been old enough to reason, every argument Tanya ever had with Dad would spill into her interactions with me."

I swallow thickly to keep from crying.

Anthony merely shrugs. "I knew every time they disagreed on my education, on my friends, and on my activities because she'd get pissed off and tell me all about it. Her father – my grandfather – was once set to bribe a headmaster to sign me into an ultra-exclusive prep school. Dad told him to fuck off because I wasn't living in no prep school. Then, the Dennis's wanted me to build friendships with the children of their friends to open important doors for me. Their idea was that I'd join their Polo or Rowing teams, two activities for which I had absolutely zero interest. Dad told them to go jump off the back of a boat or a stallion.

Here, I do flash my eyes to Edward, but as he's glaring down at the floor, I swallow my misplaced humor.

"I mean, yeah, sometimes, after he got off the phone with her or after he'd pick me up from a weekend with her, I could tell from Dad's expression that he was burning," Anthony says matter-of-factly. "But I knew the specifics because my mother always shared them with me."

My lips are pressed together so tightly I fear my teeth might cut through them. Because I really don't want to voice my thoughts. No matter what…no matter what, she's his mother, and you don't badmouth a kid's parent to his or her face.

 _Fucking hell, Tanya; you_ _ **don't**_ _do that._

All the while, Nessie holds my hand, and though I hear her deep sighs, I can tell she already knows all this. She's his wife.

"Say what you're thinking, Mom," Anthony chuckles. "Like Dad, you don't think a parent should ever put their kid in that sort of situation."

I press my lips together all the tighter.

"Honestly, Mom," he grins crookedly, a grin so like his dad's, "I never found that tendency of hers to be anything more than somewhat disconcerting when I was younger, and mildly irritating once I got older. Nessie knows this. We've discussed it a couple of times."

"Yeah, babe; we have."

"So when Tanya started showing interest in us after we got married, I figured why the hell not?" He shrugs, looking at his father now. "I swear to you, Dad, I was never majorly bothered, so once again, don't worry that your divorce somehow caused me lasting issues. And I guess…" he swallows and smiles at Nessie, "when Ness and I found out we were pregnant, the part of me that wasn't bothered was just so over the moon that I turned everything into sunshine and castles."

"It's understandable, honey," I say. "It is. You _should_ be thrilled right now. That _should_ be your priority and your prerogative to handle any way you both see fit."

"You want to hear another confession?" he says somewhat sheepishly now. Reaching for my free hand, he squeezes it inside his own. "I never even really thought about how messed up what she was doing was until today, and I think it's because of two reasons. One of them is because now I'm going to be a parent, and the thought of Ness and I arguing, which we do sometimes," he admits with a rueful nod, "and the thought of my ever discussing those arguments with our kid…of our kid ever feeling even the slight bewilderment I felt," – his nostrils flare – "makes me nauseous."

"Anthony," I say, looking straight into his eyes, "I have no doubt that you and Ness would never do that to your child."

"And the other reason…Mom," he says, brow furrowed over dark, angry eyes and a clenched jaw, "was the thought of you being hurt _again_ by something _she_ …Tanya said or did-" he chokes. "You don't deserve that, Mom."

"Oh, sweetheart." I pull him into my arms. "I was so scared you'd be upset at me for going off on your mom. That's the only thing that worried me; how this entire fiasco would affect you and Ness. And I regretted that I'd tried to teach you guys to keep your cool, yet when it came down to it, I did a miserable job of keeping mine."

He pulls away. "But you were right, Mom."

I shake my head. "I _wasn't_ right, Anthony," I admit, fitting myself into his field of vision. "Do you remember when I told you once, a long time ago, that we don't lose our cool or else we end up petty and miserable?"

"Yes, Mom. I do remember," he smirks. "And if I recall correctly, we were speaking in reference to your Family Fu- your Family Friend," he scowls, "and we were speaking about losing your cool in an office setting."

"Well, yes," I agree begrudgingly, "but the premise remains the same. And I lost my cool…big time."

"But don't you see?" he says, frowning. "Mom, sometimes, Nessie will mention something, a memory of hers of when she was a little girl or a teenager – her first time riding a bike when you tripped as you pushed the bike, yet when she took off perfectly, you just got up and wiped off your scraped knees and grinned and yelled proudly. Or the time when she was sixteen, and some guy left her waiting forever before a date, and she started crying. When the guy finally showed up three hours late, you told him to fuck off and slammed the door in his face."

Now, I _am_ laughing, but can you blame me? "I remember those times."

Anthony laughs as well. "I…I had times like those with my dad, but never with my mom, and it's not because she had no choice in leaving me."

Obviously, the humor in the situation is all gone now.

"Sometimes…I picture myself instead of Ness, in similar though different situations," he grins. "But…I never picture Tanya instead of you."

Yes, yes, I'm bawling now. Again, can you blame me? But I'm also smiling because this boy…this Spawn…somehow, across time and space and wombs…

"You have earned every right to lose your cool here, through years of care and affection, not through guilt toys nor unwanted, fancy parties – when they're convenient."

"Anthony," I choke, resting my head on his chest, while he wraps his hands around my shoulders.

"I know I'm not your Anthony. I do know that," he murmurs, "and I don't really have a right to picture myself-"

"You _are_ my Anthony, Anthony. You are."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	13. Ch 12 Where Toni or Tony is Revealed

**A/N: Happy Sunday Morning!**

 **Almost done here. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine, as are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 – And Tony or Toni is Revealed**

 **Phoenix, Arizona: That All-Important Day in February 1991**

 _Edward shut the door to my red pickup and took my hand. Weaving his fingers through mine, he nestled me against his side with the same ease and instinct with which he'd done so for over a year by then. But when he swept his gaze around the driveway and took in the congregation of cars and high schoolers – mostly seniors, like me – who loitered near and around the property, his jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed._

" _Who's house is this again?"_

" _My friend, Angela's."_

 _I swung our hands between us, smiling at the partygoers I knew mainly by sight and greeting those I knew slightly better. Having only been in Phoenix for six months, there weren't many people with whom I'd shared any information regarding my relationship with Edward. But, as everyone knows, in every high school since the dawn of time, whether through cave drawings or Instagram, word spread like wildfire._

 _Furtive whispers followed us as we made our way up the driveway._

'… _must be her boyfriend from Seattle…'_

'… _in college…'_

'… _no wonder she doesn't…'_

" _Immature kids," Edward muttered, glaring at them. "How long do we need to be stuck here before we can leave?"_

" _Well, it's not a prison, so we can probably break out whenever we want without too much of a manhunt on our tails."_

 _I chuckled as I walked backward in front of him, tugging on his hand when he failed to crack a smile._

" _Edward, I know there are a bunch of immature_ _ **kids**_ _here, and a college man like you finds that annoying, but it's just a Valentine's party." I offered him a conciliatory smile. "Had I known you were coming this weekend, I wouldn't have agreed to attend. But I can't exactly call Ange up now, from her driveway, and give her my regrets, can I? I don't even own one of those big, heavy portable phones."_

" _Bella, there's gotta be over a hundred kids up in here. I don't think your friend would notice the difference."_

" _Well, I do," I said, stopping in front of him and angling my head upward to meet his gaze. "She's my friend, Edward, one of the few real ones I've made since I moved here, and I would hope she'd notice if I pulled a Chuck Norris," I snorted. "You would, wouldn't you?"_

 _When he didn't reply, I swallowed down the niggling sensation of…something, which had been tickling at me since Edward's surprise arrival that afternoon. If I stopped to be honest with myself, that sensation had been tickling at me for a while by then – even since before I called his dorm, and some girl 'playfully' took the phone away from him in the middle of our conversation._

 _He pulled me back against his side, and we resumed our walk, while the speakers in Angela's backyard boomed, and_ _ **The Sundays**_ _filled the uncomfortable silence between us._

' _It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, which makes my eyes feel sore…'_

" _I apologize if I ruined your Valentine's weekend with my surprise visit-"_

" _Edward, come on, you know that's not true." Again, I stopped, but Edward kept walking and talking._

" _-but, since you called me a few days ago to tell me that you'll be moving to Paris in the fall, I figured we should spend some time together before you go." He shrugged and grinned wryly as he pushed the gate and held it open._

" _Are you joking me?"_

 _Our discussion was camouflaged from the student body of Phoenix Union High School by_ _ **Sinead O'Conner**_ _now_ _ **,**_ _who belted out a soulful confession regarding everything she'd tried to do to forget her incomparable love._

" _I never said I'm moving to Paris, Edward. I said I was accepted to the American University in Paris – ACCEPTED. It's a similar-looking and sounding word to ATTENDED, I'll give you that, but if you look and listen closely, you'll note the differences."_

" _You know, you ask me if I'm joking, but do you ever, ever," he stressed_ _ **,**_ _"take anything I say seriously?"_

 _That stung, especially since he was the reason I'd been overcompensating with humor lately. Between the distance that separated us and his shitty attitude of late, it was either that or cry, and I wasn't a crier. Not because I was brave or strong, but because I knew myself. Once the waterworks revved up, I went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat._

" _I take everything about us seriously, Edward."_

" _Then, I'll assume that means you turned the offer down."_

" _Well, no; not yet, but I intend to."_

" _Intend to," he echoed, nodding. "Doesn't sound like you really want to, though. Whatever." He shrugged. "I'm only here 'til Sunday morning. No point in starting an argument." Then, he broke our gaze and turned away from me, jerking his jaw toward the backyard. "Come on."_

' _No point in_ _ **starting**_ _an argument?' I wanted to say. '_ _ **Starting**_ _? May I please point out the glaring discrepancy in that statement's timeline, because we took a left turn at STARTING about five months ago, and went straight to THE MIDDLE.'_

 _But as I'd already been accused of an inability to leave the smart-mouth behind, I said none of it. Nonetheless, even back then, my talent for quitting while I was ahead was sadly lacking._

" _Is that why you're here, Edward? Because you thought I was planning on leaving for Paris next summer, and you wanted to stop me, even though I already told you-"_

 _He snorted. "No, that's not why I'm here. If you want to go to Paris, then go to Paris."_

" _But, I already told you-"_

" _Yeah, yeah; I know what you already told me." He raked a hand through his hair. "Bella, I'm here because it's Valentine's weekend, and I wanted to spend it with my girlfriend. Is that okay or did I ruin some other plans for you?"_

" _You know, you say you don't want to argue, but then you say things like that, so…" I rubbed my temples hard with the pads of my fingers, "I don't know what to do here anymore."_

 _All the while, Sinead continued her confession, informing the partygoers at large that living with her love was sometimes hard._

 _Edward rushed me so suddenly I gasped. When he pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arms around me tightly, I slid my arms around his waist and held on with the same inexplicable desperation. When he apologized, there was no question that I'd easily forgive his lately shittier and shittier attitude because I would've forgiven him…I would've forgiven him almost anything._

" _No, baby; no. Shh. Don't say you don't know what to do," he whispered fervently, cupping my face in his hands, slowly brushing his lips back and forth over mine. "I'm sorry, Bella. I don't want to fight with you. That's not what I want," he breathed. "That's not why I came, but…"_

 _I pulled back enough to search his eyes, a dark emerald shade which, back then, I saw nightly in my dreams. It was a shade I never really stopped seeing in those dreams, not completely; not even a few months later, when dreaming of that emerald shade became an excruciating reminder of what could've been…of what I'd lost. Not even during the ensuing quarter of a century which soon separated us._

" _Then, what do you want, Edward?"_

 _His anxious gaze bored into mine. "I want you, Bella, always."_

 _I slid my hand behind his neck and lightly fisted the hair at his nape. "Well then, we're golden because you have me, Edward," I smiled. "Always."_

 _He nodded slowly and swallowed hard. "Okay."_

 _OOOOOOOOOO_

 _The good thing about driving a pickup – and an old, beat-up one to boot – is that they're easily navigated off-road. When twigs and cacti scrape off an already faded paint job, and when they scratch against the flatbed's imperfections, no one gives a damn. Least of all two confused teenagers in love, who hadn't seen one another in almost two months, who were more than ready to make up after a semi-argument, and for whom safety – of any sort – was the furthest thing from their minds._

 _The Arizona desert evenings are cool in February. When the sun descends, it leaves behind an orange glow, which eventually gives way to a sapphire darkness. All the while, the crisp breeze creates a hollow rustling as it floats between the native cacti limbs._

 _On that…monumental night, the breeze enveloped the truck bed, jostling the uneven cacti while the silvery, full moon periodically peeked between them like a voyeur. That breeze cooled my skin in places where Edward's heated mouth and hands left me burning. The breeze wove itself through Edward's whispered words as he pushed and stroked deep inside me. It blended with my breathy replies as I pulled and tightened around him. And as we tumbled like weeds in the thick, gauzy blankets, our cries fused one with the other, and with every caress of that breeze._

 _For years afterward, a round, silver moon and a nighttime breeze took me back to that truck bed, to that night…the night when Edward and I made our Anthony._

 _And, for a long while, a round moon combined with a breeze were reminders of a night that led to an ache that seemed as if it would always linger. They were reminders of a void I believed would always gape. Yet, the passage of Time has a way of dulling aches and giving you back comfort. Life has a way of providing so much with which to fill voids and giving you back fulfillment._

 _And one day, over a quarter of a century later, you look into a young man's emerald eyes, eyes so much like his father's, and you realize that for all that was once taken away, Life gave you back…a miracle._

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Newport Beach, California: Present**

"You _are_ my Anthony, sweetheart. I mean, yes, your mom Tanya gave birth to you," I say, so overpowered by my sudden realization that I'm feeling overwhelmingly magnanimous, and I add, "and she deserves all the respect in the world for that, but in my heart, you're also mine – mine and your Dad's. And I hope that's okay."

Anthony pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. "That's more than okay, Mom, because I feel the same. Thank you," he whispers unevenly, "and I'm sorry if you were hurt by my recent thoughtlessness."

Here, I pull back and raise a brow, falling back on my old habit of humor before the waterworks begin again.

"Anthony, you're not too old for me to put over my knee if you keep on apologizing for things which aren't your-"

"Mom?" Ness says.

I turn to her with a smile, feeling so…ebullient now. "Yes, baby?"

She draws in a series of uneven breaths.

"Mom, you and Anthony may not owe one another apologies, but…"

When her nostrils flare with emotion, I look up at Anthony, who nods gently as I pull away from him and turn toward his wife.

"Ness, the same goes for you, baby."

She smiles sadly. "Thank you, except it doesn't, Mommy. It's not the same because I _have_ been avoiding sharing this pregnancy with you."

Of course, it makes my heart constrict, but I can both see and feel her remorse, and I won't add to it.

"Ness-"

"Because I know how your first pregnancy ended, and I thought maybe sharing this pregnancy with you would bring back those memories."

"You were trying to protect my feelings, Nessie. That's understandable." But when I reach up to cup her cheek, she steps back.

"No, Mom. There's more."

My head tilts sideways in bemusement.

"I didn't want your memories to affect my happiness with this pregnancy." A tear rolls down her cheek, and instinctively, I reach up and wipe it off.

"Nessie…" I smile gently at her, though she won't meet my eyes, "I would never want that either, honey."

"And it was easier talking to Tanya about the pregnancy," she continues. "Because Tanya had no concerns, no issues, no real advice, Mom," she snorts, "beyond the superficial. And I _appreciated_ that."

I snort and offer her a rueful smile. "I can certainly see how my sort of advice may have been a downer."

"It wasn't, Mom," she says. "It wasn't you; it was me. I've been selfish with this pregnancy from the very beginning."

"Nessie, it's _your_ pregnancy," I point out, chuckling softly, "yours and Anthony's. You're allowed to be selfish with it."

She grins, but the grin holds a tinge of exasperation "Will you stop making excuses for me? There were things I knew, Mom, even without all the crap that happened today, about how Tanya hurt you when you were younger. I may not know the details because those are between you and Pop, but you both told Anthony and me how you walked in on something hurtful once. I knew this, but I convinced myself that putting it behind us was the adult thing to do."

"Because it was," I chuckle shortly.

"But we're human, Mom. And there was more. We both know there was more, and I ignored it."

I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. She wants me to exonerate her here; of course, I see that's what she wants. But in order to exonerate her, I'd have to first accept…and admit that she was thoughtlessly hurtful. In her condition, it's not an easy thing for me to do.

"It's okay, my love," I say instead. "I-"

"Ugh," she groans, making me laugh, "It's really not okay!" She shakes her head and takes both my hands in hers. "You're only saying that because you're trying to protect me. We don't look alike, but we're so similar sometimes Mom; and…I think…that's why we clash sometimes."

I smirk. "Funny, I recall having a similar conversation with your grandmother once."

She sighs deeply. "Mom, do you remember when you and Pop first told Anthony and me about…the first Anthony?"

"Of course I remember," I say quietly.

"You also made sure we understood that what happened between you and Pop didn't cause it."

"That's because it didn't."

Here, my eyes flash to Edward…to my husband.

Throughout our entire exchange, Edward has stood on the other side of the room, silently watching and listening to our exchange. But I know it's not indecision or lack of opinions which have kept him quiet. It's because Edward's parenting style has always been more about guiding without actually leading toward opinions or decisions. My Edward…he learned from our mistakes, from our past and our mutual inability to express our feelings. And when the time came, he allowed his son the space to think, to reason, to express, and to take responsibility when necessary.

So, I suppose…I'll do the same.

Besides, if I know my husband at all, he's already had his own exchange with the kids…with _our_ kids.

Mom…" Ness smiles, "I don't need to be treated with kid gloves right now. And it's not just you who's been doing it; I've been doing it to myself. I allowed myself to get lost in the easy side of it all, in how lucky I've been so far because I haven't even wanted to consider an alternative." She shivers. "But in the process, I shut out the one person in the world who can understand me best right now, no matter what comes up."

I cradle her face in my hands. "I understand, baby. Of course, I do. The last thing I want is for you to feel scared right now."

She lays her hands over mine and weaves our fingers together. "I'm fine, Mommy," she says firmly, chuckling, "but I know you'll continue to worry, and I understand why."

"I will try not to," I smile, pushing her hair behind her ear, "but if I do, it's only because I want the best in the world for you and Anthony."

"I know that, Mom, and I'm sorry."

"And…I was hurt," I admit, swallowing past the lump in my throat, "but I love you, and I forgive you. Always."

For a long while, we hold one another's gazes – my brown eyes and her blue eyes.

I suppose Anthony can no longer bear it because he slides his arms around her from behind and pulls her back against his chest. Ness looks up at her husband and smiles, and when he murmurs something softly in her ear, she nods.

And just as I look away to give them privacy, I feel my husband's arms around my waist. He pulls me against him and plants a soft kiss on my temple.

"Love you," he whispers.

"I love you, too."

When I look up, Ness is grinning softly, her eyes on us.

"Hey, Anthony," she says, "we're going to have to take some serious parenting lessons from Mom and Pop here. First, Pop sat our asses down and set us straight, while barely breaking a sweat."

I chuckle heartily at that one.

"And then Mom's been patient with us for months, even while we acted like selfish, little shits," Anthony grins crookedly.

They all laugh, while I smile and swallow thickly. Damn those threatening waterworks to hell.

"Ness, your Mom comes up with the best life philosophies," Edward says, resting his jaw on my shoulder. "You'll be lucky to pass them along to the baby."

Ness nods. "I will be," she agrees with a nod.

"And your dad…your pop…" I tell the kids, finally able to speak, "he's got that all-encompassing, wonderful philosophy regarding advice being subjective while principles are constant. Don't ever forget that one. That one's one for the ages."

"I remember Dad used to go around saying something really similar," Ness says. "' _I'll give you the principles but not the advice_ ,'" she says in a deep voice. "That's funny how they both had such a similar outlook."

I draw in a succession of uneven breaths, my eyes on Nessie.

It takes her a few seconds, but when her brows lift high, I can tell she's startled by the realization.

"Oh, boy," she breathes, slowly turning her eyes to Edward. "Pop, did you and my dad share that when you met?"

"Yeah, Ness. Yeah; we shared it."

His hands tighten over my stomach, and since he's behind me, I can't see his expression, but his voice is composed and even, and I'm not surprised in the least that he fails to take credit for being the actual author of that philosophy.

"So strange," Nessie muses, "how fifteen minutes in a toy store can have so much meaning; can touch so many lives, so many years later."

"It _is_ strange." I sigh and smile, weaving my fingers through Edwards as he strokes my stomach. "But Life is strange. It's strange and awful and amazing and exciting," I grin. "We're given moments with a little soul, who was only around for an instant. Then, we're given moments with a husband, and with a dad, who was around much longer." I tilt my head wistfully. "Yet, it's a combination of those short moments and those longer ones which weave their way into our lives and leave behind everlasting imprints that'll forever bind us all. And when I look around…"

My eyes sweep the room – over my shoulder to my husband, then to my daughter, and finally…to my son.

"When I look around, I see that they never really left us."

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Nessie, Anthony, Edward and me crowd into Dr. Gerandy's Obstetrics Examination Room Number 2.

Nessie is laid out on the Examination table, with Anthony standing at her left, holding her hand, while Dr. Gerandy stands to her right and moves the gelled-up wand around and around her only slightly distended belly.

Edward and I stand a few feet away, far enough so that we're not in the way, yet close enough to see the screen clearly. We watch both the screen and our kids, who look at the screen while talking and whispering to one another with anxious excitement.

Sonogram images have changed since I had my very first one in the basement office of my friend Angela Weber's obstetrician dad, twenty-eight years ago, when I was seventeen. Back then, the image was so dark and grainy I personally had a hard time distinguishing a thing.

"Angela had to point out his penis to me about a dozen times before I could pretend to see it with any amount of believability," I whisper very quietly to Edward.

He presses his mouth to my temple and chuckles quietly.

"And when she printed the image out for me, all I saw was a black abyss with a tiny little blurb in the middle," I murmur ever so silently, smiling.

"I wish I could've seen that image," Edward breathes in my ear.

"I wish you could've too."

But as I've already confessed to him, I took it to Paris with me, and through years of papers and essays and tests and homework and thesis' and proposals…and marriage and a baby, well, one day…I couldn't find it anymore.

Edward kisses my temple. "Thank you for always talking to me about him, despite everything."

I look up at him. "Thank you, for raising such a wonderful boy."

He exhales and swallows thickly, his emerald gaze glassy.

"Alright, Mommy and Daddy and Nanny and Pop," Dr. Gerandy says, having already asked Edward and me what names we want to go by here lest she calls me the dreaded one. "Are we all ready? Because this baby here is screaming out its gender!" she laughs.

"We're ready!" Nessie practically screams.

"We're ready," Anthony chuckles grinning at his wife.

Edward and I shift our eyes back to the screen, and I draw in a few uneven breaths while my heart races in my chest and my husband squeezes my hand tightly within his.

"We're ready," he replies for us.

"Okay, then," the doctor sings. "Ladies and Gentleman, I give you-"

"WAIT!" I call out.

Four pairs of eyes turn to me in confusion.

"Wait," I repeat. Then, I smile at Anthony and Ness, my kids, the loves of my life.

"Are you guys sure you want us here? It's okay if you'd rather do this by yourselves, just the two of you. I swear, your dad and I won't be hurt. I swear it."

And I mean it wholeheartedly. I'm honored and touched and so proud and grateful that they asked us to share this with them, but this is their time. _Their_ pregnancy. I completely understand and accept that, just as I accepted their decision not to have Tanya here.

"Mom," Nessie says softly, "this is exactly how I want this moment – with the two most important people in the world to Anthony and me here to share it with us; the only other two people who'll appreciate it as much as we do."

"She took the words out of my mouth, Mom," Anthony says.

I swallow and nod. _No, you won't, you damn waterworks. You already had your way yesterday._

"Alright," Doctor Gerandy chuckles, turning back to the sharp, high-quality, Three-D image before us – though I still can't make out more than a bouncing little blurb.

"As I was saying, Ladies and Gentleman, I give you…Baby _Boy_ Masen!"

Anthony kisses his wife, both of them mumbling words of love and gratitude and adoration through their tears.

Edward drops his face against my shoulder and brushes his lips against my neck.

"We're going to have a grandson," he whispers.

I can only reply with a nod because if I try to speak right now-

"Mom?" Anthony says. He grins so widely my heart clenches at the joy in his expression, the wonder in his emerald eyes. My boy is going to be a dad to another boy.

"Mom, Dad…may we…may we name him…Tony?"

And yeah, I lose the battle with my tears yet again, but I couldn't care less as Edward and I approach them, and I reach out and squeeze my Anthony's hand.

"Of course, Anthony. Of course, Nessie. Your dad and I…we'd be honored."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Almost, almost done. :)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	14. C13 Returned Full Circle to the Prologue

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I'm slowly trying to catch up with reviews.**

 **Most characters belong to SM. The rest are mine as are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13 Then, We Returned Full Circle to the Prologue – Both Parts.**

" _I'll tell you what, the crowd in front of that there store looks anything but comfort and joyish. Look at them push and shove like a mindless zombie horde. They look downright spooky! Alice, remind me: is it Christmas or Halloween?" I snorted._

 _Alice and I were in a cab parked across the street from FAO Schwarz, waiting for Sam and Nessie to emerge. We would've walked from Sak's, but it was a cold frikkin' day, and while I loved the glitter and pristine purity of freshly-fallen snow, I could do without the accompanying biting winds, thank you very much. It was quite the quandary since I lived in New York City, and since snow and wind usually travel in pairs; I was well aware._

 _So, instead, from the warmth and safety of the cab's insides, I watched the December wind blow through the horde and scatter loose articles: scarves, hats, and gloves went flying into Fifth Avenue oblivion, never to be seen or heard from again. The horde looked up as one, wild-eyed, limbs waving in frenzied confusion._

 _A handful of trees, strategically scattered along the curb to provide the urban landscape with a touch of nature, bent and swayed like worshipers to the afternoon's fading sun. Their leaves abandoned them months ago, having turned brittle and purple and scattered away to be replaced by twinkling, white lights. Now, they were just bare limbs in the wind._

 _Bare limbs in the wind._

' _ **Bella…I'll always love you. Always. Tell me you'll always love me too.'**_

' _ **Miss, I'm a doctor. You have to try to remain still so I can help you. And I know you're scared, but you have to try to stop screaming because you're frightening the rest of the passengers on board. We'll be back at SeaTac soon. Do you have anyone on board with you?'**_

 _I blinked successively and turned away from both the foggy window and from the memories, which were by then, over a decade old._

" _Alice?"_

 _Alice held a compact mirror close to her hairline, through which she squinted and studied a lock of her blond hair._

" _Bella, look at this: is this a frikkin' gray?" Her tone sounded panicked._

" _For the love of- Alice, you're turning thirty today not forty-five. You still have plenty of time before you have to worry about grays."_

" _Easy for you to say," she grumbled, still inspecting that lock, "you're only twenty-nine."_

 _I rolled my eyes. "I don't know what you're so worried about anyway. Age is just a number."_

" _Now, you're just spouting party lines. Besides, it's all easy to say when you're twenty-nine-years-old, happily married, and mom to the sweetest, most beautiful little girl in the world."_

" _True," I grinned with a happy shrug._

 _She looked up from her compact mirror and glared at me. "My biological clock started ticking like a time bomb at midnight."_

 _I laughed loudly. "It did not. You've got years and years ahead of you before you have to worry about grays or ticking clocks or any of that nonsense. Besides, with your genes, you could give birth in your forties and still look twenty-nine, without a gray around, and with all that pregnancy weight disappearing into the Netherworld. Just ask your dad. He'll be happy to tell you all about the benefits of those Viking genes," I smirked._

 _She chuckled. "I hope you're right."_

" _I'm sure I am." My brow furrowed, and I turned back to the window. "Where are they?"_

 _It's not like the cabbie cared one way or the other how long we waited. He had the meter running and would get paid for every second. But Nessie was so tiny and fragile, and that crowd was looking more rabid by the second. Not that Sam wasn't more than capable of protecting her from everything, but…since the moment she was conceived, I felt a need to keep her safe._

" _My brother is probably indulging her with a few more minutes on that piano she wanted to play," Alice said. Instead of panic, there was now both humor and affection in her tone._

" _That crowd is getting worse, though," I said._

 _With a deep breath, I pushed down the handle, and a gust of wind invaded the cab as soon as I cracked open the door._

" _Bella, what are you doing? You're letting in freezing cold air!"_

" _I'll be right back. I'm just going to get them."_

" _Sam can handle it, Bella. Come on, I need your help. Take a look at this frikkin' hair for me. Is_ _ **this**_ _a-"_

 _Slamming the door, I pressed myself against the cab as car horns blared around me, and I shot Sam a quick text message. The entire time, I sucked my teeth and groaned in frustration because it wasn't easy to scroll through three letters on each number key to spell out a word while simultaneously trying not to get killed by Fifth Avenue's holiday traffic._

" _They've got to come up with a better way to do this," I muttered to myself as I threw my flip phone back into my bag._

 _Then, tightening my coat around myself, I looked up…_

OOOOOOOOOO

"I dreamed I saw you," I whisper in the darkness, swallowing hard. "I dreamed I saw you and a young boy in the middle of that crowd. You were staring right at me and holding the boy's hand tight while he squirmed and struggled to get loose. And then I crossed the street and walked right up to you, and we just stood there, locked in one another's gazes, until I looked down at Anthony and…and that's where the dream ended."

Edward is quiet, his bare chest rising and falling where my head rests above his quickly beating heart, and nudged under his jaw. My arms are wound around his frame, and his arms are wrapped around my bare shoulders.

He draws in a breath, and my head rises with his motion.

"Anthony and I didn't come out through the front. We left through the back exit because Sam warned us that you'd warned him that the front of the store was a chaotic, mob scene."

"What if I hadn't warned him?" I wonder.

I lift myself up and rest my palms on his chest as I hold his emerald gaze through the meager moonlight streaming in through the blinds' slits. My hair falls around us like a curtain, and maybe it's the perceived privacy of that curtain or maybe it's just the fact that I love this man unimaginably, and I can tell him anything.

"What if it had happened the way I just dreamed it, and we'd seen each other that day? How would things have been different, Edward? _Would_ things have been different?"

His darkened eyes bore into mine as he considers the questions, the implications of so many of the decisions in our lives. Sometimes, they're big decisions; sometimes they're seemingly inconsequential ones.

Edward runs a hand through the length of my hair, nudging a few strands behind my ear so he can cup my cheek.

"Here's what would've happened," he murmurs. "We would've stood there, bewildered for a few seconds before Sam and Nessie walked out. Unavoidable introductions would've followed, which may have made the friendly comradery Sam and I experienced a few minutes earlier somewhat awkward."

"But what about us, Edward?" I insist. "What would we have said to one another?"

"We couldn't have said much, Bella," he whispers wistfully. "You had a husband you loved and respected, and with whom you'd built a family and a life. So, we would've said, 'Hi, how are you? How's your life been?' And given one another vague, superficial answers. Anything beyond that would've been left unsaid because it wasn't our time. Not there. Not then."

"What about Anthony?" I ask, my voice hoarse and quivery as I push him for more because I know he'll always answer, and he'll never leave things unsaid between us again. "How could I have walked away from Anthony, especially at that age? How could I have gone on with my life knowing he was out there?"

He cradles my face in his warm hands and pulls me flush against his firm, welcoming body, smiling at me tenderly.

"And that…is why…Life had us walk out through the back door."

I pull his hands away from my face and crush my mouth to his, completely wrapping myself around him, hands tangled in his hair, limbs entwined with his long limbs.

"I love you, Edward," I breathe against his lips.

"I love you, too, Bella," he echoes, his mouth brushing my mouth, skimming my cheeks, tapping my nose and my eyes. "I always have, and I always will."

And for the next few minutes, we tumble like weeds in our warm bed, whispering our eternal devotion through familiar yet always new caresses. We're anxious yet unafraid, and sure of one another in a way we never were as teenagers…in a way we wouldn't have been until a few years ago – when our time arrived.

When he pushes himself inside, we both sigh in relief because we're home - home again; home always; home still. It stretches into forever as I arch into him and he thrusts against me. He takes my hands and weaves his fingers through mine, resting them high above my head. Our eyes open and shut to indescribable sensations and to the reverence of green against brown. The pads of his fingers stroke and knead; my fingers scratch and plead.

When I tighten and fall, it's with a series of successive cries followed by almost soundless breaths. Edward guides me along the never-ending spiral, stroking me within and without, and with his final, deep drive, I whisper,

"I always loved you too."

And I hold him as he exhales through his own release.

OOOOOOOOOO

 **Four months later:**

Alice and I are having lunch together at an outdoor table at Pacific Stream. We're splitting an order of today's _Swan Bellies_ creation because the restaurant only had one left: I'm-About-to-Pop-Blueberry-and-Nuts Tarts.

"Nessie's insane with these titles sometimes," Alice chuckles as she takes a bite.

"She totally is," I grin, "but I'd bet Anthony had a hand in that title as well."

Meanwhile, Sammy sits across from us in her high chair, enjoying her own lunch treat – this week's _TufBaby_ creation: Golden Apple Hummus – or mashed apples and chickpeas infused with apricot pulp and chock-full of golden raisins. Her baby-blues shift suspiciously from the hummus and pita bits on her tray to the rich and blue tart between her mom and me. She does not look pleased.

"You know, you're pretty evil making that poor baby eat that while we eat this."

"I'm evil?" Alice snorts, her mouth full of tart. "It's your frikkin' creation!"

"Your frikkin creation, Aunt BB," Sammy echoes with a frown.

"Language, Missy-pooh," Alice corrects.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's 'Do as I say' not 'Say as I say,'" I tease her.

"What were we discussing before I tasted this little piece of heaven?" Alice wonders, knitting her brows together. "Oh, yes! Mina Rodrigues!"

She throws a triumphant fist into the air, apparently in the throes of the tart's sugar rush, so I kind of see why she won't feed it to Sammy.

"So Mina wants you on her cooking show?"

"Yep," I say, "as a guest judge, in a recurring capacity if I can manage the time. She said she's been a huge fan of _Swan Bellies_ for years, and now that she's pregnant, she can't wait to feed her baby _TufBaby."_

"That is insane," Alice chuckles in amazement.

"She said she was actually disappointed a few months back when she found out she wouldn't be catering Nessie and Anthony's Gender Reveal Party because she'd been dying to meet Ness and me."

"So, she was anxious to do the party just so she could meet you?"

"According to her, that's the only reason she agreed to do it, and when she heard it wasn't happening, she asked Tanya to pass along word that she'd love to set up a meeting with me. With how busy she's been, she said she hadn't had a chance to follow up with Tanya when she didn't hear from me, but after seeing on Instagram the Blue-velvet filled, Owls-in-a-Whimsical-Forest creation and the accompanying treats I prepared for the kid's Baby Shower, she made sure she set aside time to get in touch with me."

"And that beeyotch never told you!" Alice yells.

I wave my arms around wildly trying to shush her. "Will you keep it down! We're in a frikkin' restaurant, and anyone might hear you, and then it'll get back to Anthony that we were talking smack about his mother. Looks like you need to be kept away from sweets as much as Sammy."

"We're in a frikkin restaurant, Mommy," Sammy chides her mom, making me laugh.

"Sammy," Alice warns. Then, she turns back to me, eyebrows raised.

"Bella, I think by now it's safe to say that Anthony is aware that his birth mother is a bit of a…frikkin' lunatic. Sammy, you repeat that word, and there will be no beach this afternoon."

Little Sammy is quiet.

"Yeah, maybe," I concede, "but not only have Tanya and I not spoken since the day of the incident, she's barely been in touch with the kids, claiming she's extremely busy with that high-profile case she's been working."

"The one on the news every night?"

"Yeah, that one. So, I'm honestly not surprised she never passed along word from Mina."

Alice eyes me blandly. "Oh, I'm not surprised, either, Bella, but if you're going to sit there and try to tell me the reason she never passed along the message was that she was busy, then I'm going to have to call bull…poop," she says, eyeing her daughter. "We both know the wench was likely so jealous she probably pooped herself right there when Mina said she wanted to meet you."

"Is _pooped_ really a word?" I wonder aloud. "I mean, can you use a word that's not even in a dictionary in a past tense?"

"I'm not sure," Alice says, her brow furrowed in consideration. "I mean, I've definitely heard it in usage, but I wonder if you'd actually find it in a dictionary of the non-urban variety. Hmm," she wonders.

"You know, it's moments like these when I understand how you and I became best friends."

"Totally."

We both laugh. When I look at Sammy, her little brow is knit in confusion.

Then, I sigh. "I don't know, Al, if it's jealousy or…what motivates that woman."

Alice studies me for a few moments. "You want to know what I think?"

"Of course, I do. That's why we're here."

"Well, _I_ think," she says slowly and carefully, "that everything Tanya said to you that day a few months back, about your being jealous of her, was actually a reflection of her feelings."

"What does she need to be jealous of me about?" I snort. "She's smart, beautiful, successful, and as much as it kills me to say, if it was about Anthony, she'd try a lot harder with him. She never even showed up to the Gender Reveal or to the Baby Shower last week."

Alice shakes her head from side to side, appearing to consider her words or perhaps whether she wants to speak them at all.

"Bella, have you ever stopped to consider…maybe it's not about success _or_ about Anthony. Maybe, as much as the mom in me cringes to say this, it was never about her son."

"Then what's…?" I trail off.

"It was a losing battle for her from day one, especially with the way she decided to go about things," Alice says, pursing her lips in disgust. "She won a pyrrhic victory that day in that dorm room."

I shake my head in wonder. "Wow. I don't know if you're right, but…wow."

"Whatever," Alice grins after a short while. "Her regrets are for her to deal with, Bella; not you."

"Edward said something similar last night," I muse quietly. "Maybe that's why he's a bit upset with me today."

"Uh, oh. What did you do now?"

"Uh, oh. Aunt BB's in trouble," Sammy sings.

"Hey, kiddo, there's a whole restaurant-full of action occurring around you. Why don't you give that a listen?" She giggles wildly while I kiss every inch of her sweet face.

I look back at Alice and cross my arms against my chest. "Why do you assume _I_ did something?"

She quirks an eyebrow.

"Fine, fine." I uncross my arms and pick up my coffee mug, hiding my mouth behind it.

"I brought up the possibility of texting Tanya."

Alice holds my gaze with feigned impassivity, waiting for me to grow balls and lower the mug back down.

"Dare I hope it was to curse her out for this latest Mina Rodrigues fiasco?" Her tone implies she dares hope no such thing.

I purse my lips. "Alice, don't you think one nasty exchange between that woman and me every quarter of a century is enough? At this rate, they'll be selling tickets to our boxing match when we're in our late sixties."

"Exactly who shall be selling these tickets because I'd like to place my order now, please."

"What I wanted to tell her was that even though the kids decided they only wanted Edward and me at the Ultrasound-"

"And even though they asked _you_ to finish planning and catering their Gender Reveal," Alice chuckles wickedly, "and she had absolutely nothing to do with the Baby Shower last week."

"Yes, even though that too…" I smirk, "I wanted to ask her to get in touch with the kids before the baby comes."

"Baby cousin Tony is coming soon!" Sammy shrieks happily.

"He is," I smile at her tenderly.

After a few moments of glaring at me in overt disapproval, Alice shakes her head gravely. "Bella, Bella."

"It's just, as a mother, I know how much she'll regret one day-"

"Here's the flaw in your reasoning, Bella: Tanya doesn't think like a mother. As a mom myself, I understand your worry that young Anthony Masen will someday want his Mom. But guess what, Bella? He _has_ her." She squeezes my hand tightly.

"That's basically what Edward said, except there was some nostrils flared and some furiously green eyes involved."

"Wise, hot man, that husband of yours," she grins.

"That he is," I agree.

Alice studies me carefully, and then she smiles. "Can you believe it was only a few years ago that Anthony first came into your life, and that at the time, you thought he was the Demon's Spawn?"

"Here's a confession, Ally."

I remove Sammy from her high chair and sit her on my lap, grinning impishly at Alice while I feed my goddaughter a tiny bite of tart. Alice scowls at me.

"I think I loved Anthony…Anthony Robert at first sight, just how you love a child as soon as he or she is born." I kiss Sammy's head. "What took me a while was to admit it to myself."

"That's not much of a confession, Bella. It was in your eyes the entire time."

I chuckle softly.

"So, what are you going to do about Mina's offer?" She reaches for her munchkin, and when I hand her over, she sits her on her lap and allows Sammy to happily finish the tart.

"I don't know yet." I shrug and grin. "I've got more important things going on right now. I'll get to it."

OOOOOOOOOO

I walk into our house through the backyard.

Edward is sitting at the cast iron bistro table, working on his laptop. When he doesn't spot me right away, I stop and study him.

Almost thirty years ago, one of the most popular boys in school tapped me on the shoulder while we were on line for lunch, and asked me to a movie. We saw _Pretty Woman_ ; well sort of. We really made out the entire time.

And no, I hadn't expected it, and I hadn't been _hoping_ for it either. Edward and I ran in two different circles. But while it was unexpected in every way, I fell in love hard - quickly, completely, and maybe with a bit of naïve blindness.

When we met again a quarter of a century later, I fell in love eyes open – but again quickly and completely.

My husband sits there typing away, his brow furrowed in focus, making the lines which time has etched on his forehead more pronounced, the creases at the corners of his eyes more visible. The California sun shines over his dark copper hair, highlighting a few grays. A few weeks ago, he was fitted for reading glasses, which he only needs while working. It pissed him off, and it made me laugh.

He looks like a college professor, one which any straight college girl would eagerly and willingly shag whether it earned her a good grade or college expulsion.

I suppose he senses me watching because he looks up expectantly, and despite the fact that he was upset with me this morning, a glorious grin graces his still-so-handsome face.

I approach him slowly, and the grin widens. He reaches out a hand, and I take it before I even close all the space between us.

"You were right."

"Was I? I'm glad Alice sanctioned my opinion." He smirks, then laughs at what I guess is my guilty expression, pulling back his chair to make room for me to sit on his lap.

"I'm just kidding, Bella," he says somewhat sheepishly. "Honestly, I spoke to Jasper this afternoon when you left for lunch. I wanted his opinion too."

"Aha," I say. "So, what did Jasper have to opine?"

"He said he's surprised you haven't kicked her ass yet."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Yeah, his wife said something similar."

"I suppose that's why those two are so happy together. They agree where it counts."

"Yeah; I know what that's like," I say quietly, playing with the hair at his nape. His hand strokes my leg under my skirt, fingertips dancing higher on my thigh. A gentle, spring breeze whips by, ruffling our hair, lifting my skirt for him. For a few moments, we just sit there, holding one another's gaze.

"I was sitting here earlier, waiting for you to come home, and thinking of one of the biggest benefits of being official empty-nesters."

"What's that, Professor Masen?" I grin knowingly.

"We're role-playing, are we?" he smirks deviously as his fingers move underneath my panties and stroke in a circular motion. My eyes fall closed, and he pushes his fingers in.

"It's not having to wait for any of this," he murmurs as he pumps me languidly. "Never having to hide from kids or keep our voices down or wait for bedtime for all the things I'm gonna do to you when I take you upstairs now, _Miss Swan_."

"Then let's get going, Professor, before I have to go home," I whisper in his ear.

When he pulls out his fingers, he straightens my skirt and then taps my behind so that I stand on shaky legs. Then, he leans in and kisses me sweetly, locking his eyes on mine.

"You are home, Mrs. Masen. You're home."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wake the next morning to an empty bed.

Edward had an early morning meeting in the office today, and I have to drive into L.A. for one of the final meetings for the Company structurization before we're all required to sit down together and sign a bunch of documents that'll officially make us _The Masen Craft Company_. At some point between then and now, Ness, Anthony, and I have to decide whether we want to work with Mina Rodrigues or not. It'll be hectic, and Ness is due in a couple of weeks. I'm not sure if it's something we want or can do at the moment.

All these thoughts run through my head as I pad over to our closet to get dressed. Humming to myself, I push aside hangers and garment bags, searching for an outfit. When I reach the middle of my pole, however, something directly below it catches my attention:

It's a medium-sized, shiny black box wrapped in a big, red bow. There's a folded piece of paper attached to the top of the box.

"What did you do?" I speak to the empty room at large, grinning broadly because I already have my sneaking suspicions as I open the paper and read.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _It's been a hectic few months, love; I know. But we're almost there, and as with everything you ever do, you've been amazing. Here's a little something to add an extra smile to your morning (and then, if you keep them on, I'll add an extra scream for you tonight)._

 _Love you, always._

 _Your husband,_

 _Edward._

As I set the letter aside and unwrap the box, my first thought is that I likely don't deserve whatever is inside. I was a fucking mess for months, and though I've been a bit better these last, few months, since I released my frustrations on Tanya, and then the kids and I had a talk, I couldn't have been easy to live with.

But then…I lift the top. Sure enough, as I suspected, Edward has gotten me a new pair of Red Bottoms.

Red Bottoms.

I love Red Bottoms. I own seven pairs. The last three – including these – are my favorite because they were given to me by my husband for no reason or occasion other than how much he loves me.

Well, to be more specific, I should say he didn't give them to me for a _calendar-specific_ reason or occasion. In our almost three years of marriage, Edward and I have eschewed the generally-accepted convention of gifting one another on Christmas, on Valentine's Day, for our Anniversary, etc. Instead, we spoil the shit out of one another whenever the mood hits us – which is pretty often.

So yes, of course, there's a reason for the shoes. In Edward's case, every time I wear Red Bottoms, he splits his pants in the groin area. He attributes this to some nonsense regarding the way the slim, narrow six-inch heels lift and elongate the natural curve in my calves, which organically lead his eyes to my thighs and then inherently, the eyes stray upward to my ass – or something along those lines. The explanation is what I've managed to piece together from convoluted statements he's made because my usually articulate and well-spoken husband isn't the most enlightened creature once I've got those Red Bottoms on.

Therefore, it's safe to say that as soon as he comes home with a pair, I know he's going to have my legs up in the air while I wear those Red Bottoms and no other bottoms. Which is a fair deal, if you ask me. Keep the Red Bottoms coming, and I'll keep you coming. Win/win for all involved; even though we both know I'll happily do it without Red Bottoms thrown into the bargain.

In fact, I usually do it for no other reason, calendar-specific or Red-Bottomed, beyond how much I love him and how good he is to me in every way.

Hence, even though I may not deserve this specific pair of Red Bottoms - your classic pump style, in nude patent leather; quite gorgeous and fitting for the glamour of Tinsel Town, where I'm headed today, by the way – I think it's only proper that I accept them in the spirit in which they were given.

At that thought, my conscience niggles me a little bit, but I swiftly instruct it to shut the hell up and mind its own business. Then, with a happy smile, even louder humming, and the promise of ever-great, Red-Bottomed sex with Edward tonight on my mind, I pull the RBs out of the box and prepare for my day.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Recognized that last bit? ;)**

 **One more chapter and an epi, I believe. ;)**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**


	15. Ch 14 Most Amazing Thing of All Happened

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Almost, almost done!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine as are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14 – And Then…the Most Amazing Thing Of All Happened.**

All dressed up, sporting shiny new Red Bottoms, and mentally prepping for this morning's meeting with assistance from a coffee-filled mug, I sit at the kitchen island and await the arrival of my attorney slash best friend, Alice Hale. She and I will be commuting to L.A. with Sammy, so that Jasper's parents can spend the morning with their granddaughter while Alice and I are in our meeting.

As I wait, I do as the Romans – or in this case, the Millennials – do, and I snap a selfie of myself, from calves to the very tip of my stilettoes, and I shoot it out with a message:

 **I love them. Thank you. 3**

 **Thank YOU, but how the hell am I supposed to wait for you to get home this afternoon when I'll now have this pic in my brain all morning?**

 **If it's going to be such a hardship, maybe you should've waited 'til this afternoon to give me the package. ;)**

 **Oh, I'll be giving you a whole different sort of package this afternoon.**

I laugh so hard I almost spit out my coffee.

 **You're so bad.**

 **Got no one but yourself to blame. Ready for your meeting?**

As I'm reading that text, a notification for another one pops up at the top of my screen. I swipe over and give the pic and caption from Ness a broad smile before I return to Edward.

 **Yep. Just waiting for Alice to pick me up. Gotta go, babe. Love you.**

 **Okay. Love you, be careful, and good luck. Gotta go too. I'VE got a meeting with a pic and a bathroom stall. ;)**

 **So, so bad.**

I'm still snickering as I send out my next text:

 **Morning, Nessie. How do you feel today?**

 **Good morning, Mom. I feel wonderful. How are you? Did you see the pic I sent you of this morning's creation?**

 **I'm fine, and I did – Puppy Dog Tail Buns! You're so creative, Nessie.**

 **Thanks, Mom, but I did learn from the best. 3**

I smile to myself, while warmth floods me from the inside out. Edward was right; Life is so much better when the lines of communication are open.

 **Ready for this morning's meeting, Mom?**

 **I am, but I wanted to make sure you're showing no signs of labor before I'm all the way in L.A.**

 **All the way in LA, Mom? It's literally 90 minutes away.**

 **You never know with traffic on those highways.**

 ***Excuse me, freeways.**

 **You won't get stuck for two weeks – which is how long 'til I'm due, lol. No signs yet that Baby Tony is ready to leave his comfy spot. Don't worry, Mom. I know you will, but try not to too much. 3**

Again, I smile, while a series of uneven sighs escape me. I'm so damn grateful Nessie's pregnancy has been nothing like mine. But I suppose, as Nessie obviously knows and now accepts, until the baby is actually here, I'll worry just a bit.

 **Alright, honey, but text me right away if something comes up. Hey, guess what your Pop surprised me with this morning? A new pair of RBs!**

 **Wow, go Pop! ANOTHER pair of RBs? Send me a pic! I can't wear RBs right now & must live vicariously. :(**

I shoot her off the picture I took a few minutes earlier.

 **Mom, those are gorgeous, and they look amazing on you! Boy, Pop sure loves gifting you with those stilettoes.**

Why the hell did I mention the RBs?

 **What's that supposed to mean?**

 **Why, nothing at all, Mommy. Have a great meeting this morning, and enjoy the heck out of those RBs! ;)**

I decide right then and there that open communication or not, Red Bottoms shall never again be a topic of discussion between Ness and me.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alice's mother-in-law meets us at the parking lot in Downtown L.A. directly across from the office in which Alice and I will be attending our meeting. Jasper's mom, a sweet, southern lady named Sadie, is thrilled to pick up her youngest grandchild. She kisses and hugs her, but then quickly sets her down and takes her hand instead, while Alice situates Sammy's car seat into the back seat of Sadie's car. Sadie is somewhere in her late seventies, and a squirming toddler can be difficult to carry for someone much younger. Alice has always gotten along well with her in-laws, but since those forty-eight hours or so a few months ago, when the possibility of Jasper being sick existed, their relationship has grown even closer.

I crouch down to Sammy's eye level while Alice finishes adjusting the car seat.

"Aunt BB, I go to zoo with Gramma!" Sammy shrieks excitedly, her hand firmly in her grandmother's.

I make a grand show of clapping my hands. "Yay! But while you're blowing kisses to all the little monkeys with one hand, you make sure your other hand stays just like you have it now, right inside Gramma's hand." I finish in that sing-song tone adults sometimes use in the hopes that our words will stick to those young, little brains better.

"Ok," she giggles.

"Ok?" I grin.

"Ok." She giggles even harder as if the word has somehow become funnier in the last one point five seconds. "Aunt BB, your shoes are tall like a giraffe!" She gestures high with her little hand. "Don't fall, Aunt BB!"

"What?" I snort. "Aunt BB won't fall. Aunt BB knows exactly what she's doing in these, kiddo. They're not her first pair."

With a wink, I wave away her warning. Then, with a kiss to her forehead followed by another round of giggles, I straighten. Sadie gives me one of those sweet, wrinkled, grandmotherly smiles.

"Nessie's due real soon, right?"

"Yes. In a couple of weeks," I say, grinning widely.

She chuckles, her voice raspy and quivery with age. "She and that handsome husband of hers must be so excited. Boy, to be that young again, and just startin' out," she says wistfully. "Give them both my love, will ya?"

My wide grin turns into a soft smile. "They are, and I definitely will. Thank you, Sadie."

"Can you believe you and I will soon be members of the same club, Grand _mah_ Bella?!"

She lays a liver-spotted hand on my arm and the way she stretches out that last vowel actually manages to make the word synonymous with _Old Geezer._ Soft smile is completely obliterated.

"Ah…yeah."

"By the way, I do love them shoes, Bella."

Somewhat placated once more, I'm about to thank her when she leans in close and whispers conspiratorially.

"You wear those for as long as you can, honey, 'fore the arthritis sets into your legs. Then, you rub a little _Ben Gay_ on 'em, and wear some shoes and hose with good support, and you should be just fine 'til your hip gives out. But once you get it replaced, you'll be almost as good as new as long as that good-lookin' husband of yours doesn't try to hit it too hard."

For a few seconds, I only manage to blink. "Uhm…thanks?"

"No problem, honey." She pats my cheek with a somewhat callused palm. "After all, we grandmas gotta stick together, don't we?" She winks a massively crow-footed eye at me.

"Thanks for the advice, Sadie. I'll keep it all in mind. Alice, we're going to be late."

When I look at Alice, her lips are pressed together tightly in an effort not to burst out laughing.

"Oh, we've still got plenty of time. Sadie, any more Grand _mah_ advice to share with Bella?"

OOOOOOOOOO

"It was funny, Bella; what do you want me to tell you?" Alice whisper-shrugs, amusement still unapologetically dancing in her eyes while we stand at the back of the semi-crowded elevator, heading up to our meeting.

"I beg to differ," I hiss, scowling at the back of the heads of the people in front of us. Frowning, I look down at my feet. "I'm starting to dislike these shoes."

"Don't start," she whispers harshly now. "Remember what happened last time you blamed an inanimate object for your troubles."

"I met the Spawn, fainted at the airport, and vomited Nutella Scones all over Second Avenue."

"Yeah, but then you discovered the Spawn wasn't really a spawn, and that his dad was your long-lost ex-boyfriend, whom you ended up marrying, and then the non-Spawn ended up marrying your daughter, and now you're all one big, happy family. _And_ , you're incorporating your own company now, _and_ Mina Rodrigues wants you on her show. All in all, those Nutella Scones kicked fucking ass, so leave the damn shoes alone."

When the guy in front of us looks over his shoulder and frowns darkly, Alice and I both quirk an eyebrow at him until he turns back around. Then, we look at one another and snicker.

The elevator stops, and a handful of people step off. The doors close again with about a half dozen people inside, and we resume the upward ride.

"All I'm saying is that Nessie, Sammy, and Sadie all had something to say about-"

I cut off when I feel my cell phone vibrating in my purse. As I reach inside for it, I see Alice reaching inside her bag as well, also pulling out her cell phone.

"What were you saying?" she asks as we both peruse our phones.

"I was saying that these…these…these shoes…"

 **Hey, Mom, everything's fine. Nessie's water broke. We're headed to the hospital, but EVERYTHING IS FINE, MOM. PLEASE DO NOT RUSH! We both love you so much, and we'll see you this afternoon.**

Only vaguely do I note a couple of other texts coming in while I read and reread the one from Anthony. But I'm unable to switch over to the others because for a few seconds, I'm physically frozen, and I can do nothing more than move my eyeballs over the words in front of me.

When I finally manage to make my muscles move, I look up and find Alice staring at me, wide-eyed.

"Bella, be calm."

"Holy fuck," I shriek.

The elevator door opens again, and Alice and I both jump into action.

"Everyone out!" I yell. "My daughter's in labor!"

Everyone stares at me.

"You heard the woman!" Alice bellows. "Everyone out! This elevator's going back down with no frikkin' stops!"

When she slams her palm on the Fire Alarm, a loud blare erupts all around us, which makes everyone sprint the fuck out in bewilderment. Elevator emptied and Fire Alarm activated, as soon as I hit the "L" button, the doors shut tightly, and we begin a direct, fifteen-story descent.

"Oh my God! Oh, my God, Alice!"

"Calm down, Bella!" she yells. "CALM DOWN!"

"It was the damn shoes!"

"Stop blaming the frikkin' shoes!"

Heart pounding, I check the other text messages as we race down.

 **Bella, babe. Everything is fine. Call me.**

 **Bella, call me before you get in the car.**

 **Mommy, my water broke! BUT PLEASE DRIVE CAREFULLY!**

The elevator doors open.

We're face-to-face with a handful of yellow-jacket-sporting, yellow-and-red-hat wearing, suited up and booted up L.A. firemen. They've arrived in an impressive half-minute, looking able and ready with hoses and axes in hand.

Now, under different conditions, happily married to the most amazing and handsomest guy in California or not, this scene would merit a second or two of further consideration.

"Who activated the fire alarm?" the first one questions in a rush.

"it's an emergency! My daughter's in labor all the way in Newport Beach!"

"All the way…? Ma'am, Newport Beach is only ninety minutes away," the second one says.

"You never know with traffic on the highways- freeways!" I correct myself.

"That _is_ true," the middle one nods thoughtfully. Then, they all look at one another.

"Maybe if she takes the 101-"

"Are you crazy? Not at this time of day. The 405 would be better at this time of morning-"

"No, no, no. If she takes the 605 to the 405-" the fourth one begins, but then he frowns and straightens. "Ma'am, activating the fire alarm in a public building when there's no fire is against California law."

"I had no choice!"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to wait here for our chief so that you can explain yourself," the fifth one says.

"I did it!" Alice yells. "I activated the fire alarm! This poor woman had nothing to do with it!"

Then reaching back into her purse, Alice pulls out her keys and flings them at me. I catch them automatically.

"Bella, go!" Alice throws me the car keys. "I'll take care of this, but CALL EDWARD FIRST!" she commands as I run off.

"Ma'am, be careful in those Red Bottoms!"

OOOOOOOOOO

Making my way down the sloped street to the parking lot, I call Edward.

"Bella, thank God," he breathes. "Tell me you're not driving."

"Not yet!" My heels click-clack noisily on the concrete, like one of those drums of war.

"Alice is going to drive, correct?"

"No! Alice is busy with a bunch of firemen!"

"What? Never mind. Babe, please, please calm down," he says in a serene tone belied by the edge in it. "Nessie is fine. I'm on my way to the hospital myself, and I just spoke to Anthony. He wanted me to tell you that there's absolutely NO. RUSH. It could be _hours_ , Bella."

"Not if these Red Bottoms have anything to say about it! And trust me, they will!"

" _What?"_

"Edward, I swear, I'll drive carefully. But I gotta go now. Love you."

"Bella-"

I fling my phone back into my bag, hit the car's alarm, unlock the doors, and I'm out, tires screeching.

OOOOOOOOOO

With no Nutella Scones around this time, as I make my way from L.A. to Newport Beach, I fully and completely damn the Red Bottoms to the pits of hell, regardless of what Alice says.

But then again, I chose to wear 'em knowing fully well I didn't deserve them. Then, as if that wasn't enough, I ignored all the cautionary signs: Nessie's teasing, Sammy's warning, and Sadie's Ben Gay suggestion.

You don't burn Nutella Scones, and you sure as hell don't wear RBs you don't deserve.

Of course, with my mind in the uproar in which it finds itself, as I teeter-totter down the hospital's slippery-tiled maternity ward eighty-minutes later, I fail to realize the obvious solution to the RB problem.

"Vanessa?" I call out as I sprint down the hallways. "Ness, where are you?"

It's only as the right heel on my expensive-as-all-hell RBs finally gives – because let's face it, Louboutins aren't meant for a sprint from L.A. to Newport Beach – and my ankle twists, that the thought runs through my head.

 _Perhaps…I should've taken off the shoes._

As I tumble face-first toward the shiny, white-tiled, hospital floor, the past few months race through my brain, and I see exactly how I got here.

And then…I land in a pair of strong arms right before my ass hits the floor.

"There you go," Edward says as he lifts me up and pulls me against his chest. "Bella, thank God," he chuckles. "I swear, I haven't taken a breath since you got behind that wheel."

I look up at him and grin. "You've been tracking me again? Don't worry, I drove carefully – for the most part. Otherwise, I would've been here twenty minutes ago."

He snorts and shakes his head, and I recall the issue at hand.

"Where's Ness?"

"Right in the next room. Come on." He gestures with his head as he takes my hand, and I limp beside him. "And throw out those shoes, babe."

When I walk into the room, I find Ness, Anthony, and a couple of nurses, all in different states of action.

Nessie is laying back on the hospital bed, while Anthony sits at her side, and the nurse's move around, prepping the room.

When Nessie spots us, a tired grin spreads across her face.

"Mom," she smiles.

Anthony turns and sees us, and a relieved grin spreads across his face. He kisses Nessie's forehead quickly and strides towards us, pulling me into a hug.

"Mom, thank God," he breathes, much as his dad just did. "You had me a bit worried."

Pulling back, I chuckle and cup his cheek. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

He shrugs sheepishly. "Guess I'm practicing."

Again, I chuckle softly and then make my way toward Nessie. Her beautiful blond hair is a damp, knotted mess around her head, and she's got drops of moisture on her forehead and above her lip.

"Mom, I hope you didn't rush over here," she breathes, while I pick up the small towel on the side table, dip it in the basin of cool water beside it, and wipe her forehead.

"Not too much, baby," I say as I kiss her cheek.

"I considered not telling you so that you wouldn't rush, but that didn't feel right- Unh," she whimpers. When a contraction hits her, Anthony weaves his fingers through hers.

"Squeeze my hand, baby. Squeeze as hard as you want."

He swallows and looks at his wife through eyes full of love, pain, guilt, excitement, and awe.

"I love you, Nessie. I love you so much." His voice breaks.

"How is she?" I murmur while Ness squirms through her unavoidable agony, having decided long before to forego any medication.

Meanwhile, Edward curves his hands around my shoulders and squeezes them, replying when Anthony can't seem to manage to speak through his wife's contraction.

"She's good, Bella. In pain, but she's a trooper." He kisses my temple as if thanking me for her bravery.

"The contractions are coming closer together now, so one of the nurses went to get the doctor to see if it's time to-"

Just then, Doctor Gerandy arrives followed by an entourage of nurses.

"Vanessa and Anthony! The day has arrived! Let's see how ready Little Tony is here, shall we?"

She moves swiftly to the foot of Nessie's bed, grinning and greeting Edward and me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Masen. How are you both, excited?"

"Very much so," I reply shakily.

She chuckles as she lifts Nessie's blanket. and gets to work down there.

"I can imagine. I've got three grandkids myself. I'll tell you, there's nothing like it." She looks at Ness. "Now, Vanessa, as evil as this sounds, I'm going to wait until the next contraction hits you-"

She doesn't even finish before Nessie is whimpering again.

"Alright, honey," the doctor says soothingly, "I'm going to check you now. Ready?"

The doctor carries on a stream of conversation as she checks Nessie's cervix, obviously meant to distract us all from that fact. When she pulls out her hand, she looks over to her nurses and nods. Instantly, they all sprint into action.

"Ten centimeters!" she sings. "Time to start pushing!"

My heart pounds so hard I fear it might pound right out of my chest.

Meanwhile, Anthony leans into Nessie and whispers softly to her while she nods and whimpers, shutting her eyes. And swallowing back all my fears and tears, I move to her other side and take her hand.

"I love you so much, my little girl," I tell her shakily. "I won't lie: this is probably going to be the most painful thing you've ever experienced, but Nessie…it'll all be worth it because in the end, there will be a tiny being you'll love for the rest of your life."

In my mind, I add, _No matter what_.

Eyes still closed, Ness squeezes my hand. "Mommy…can you and Pop stay here with me and Anthony? Please?"

Bewildered, I look at Anthony, who nods vigorously. "Whatever makes it easier for her. Please, Mom."

"Of course," I choke, looking at Edward over my shoulder. He smiles in encouragement. "Of course we'll stay."

"Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Masen," one of the nurses says. "You'll have to go scrub down quickly and change!"

In a matter of seconds, the nurse guides us to the scrubbing station.

"I think it's wonderful that Mommy wants her in-laws here!" she smiles.

"Oh, I'm not her in-law; I'm her mom," I say as I don the blue scrubs she hands me.

"Oh," she says. "I thought I heard Doctor Gerandy called you Mrs. Masen, so I thought you were the Daddy's mom."

"Oh, I am the Mrs. Masen, and I am the Daddy's Mom, but I'm also the Mom's mom."

"Ah, okay." The nurse frowns.

I look over at Edward, who in his scrubs looks more like a doctor than like the frazzled, about-to-be grandparent who doesn't know what the hell she's even saying anymore, as I'm sure I resemble.

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Are we ready?" the nurse asks.

I draw in a breath and slip my hand into Edward's. "We're ready."

OOOOOOOOOO

Our deliveries…and our losses…are always the strangest mixture of hazy images combined with intensely vibrant sensations. It's like being underwater; you emerge and submerge; you see the rocks underneath the surface, but then you smell the forest above. Twenty, thirty years later when someone asks you exactly what happened, you may not remember the colors of the walls or the names of the doctors' involved, but you remember that first, lusty newborn cry…or you remember the swooshing sound the airtight, airplane door made when it finally opened.

It's not much different when it's your children giving birth – when your daughter's final shriek of agony morphs into the happiest – and most relieved – cry she'll ever expel…or when your son holds his newborn son for the first time, and his tears of joy land softly on the tiny being's downy crown.

And so it was the late afternoon when Tony Masen entered the world, named after his uncle, but his own little person forever.

Afterward, once everything has calmed down, and the room has been set to right again, Tony lies contentedly and quiet in his mother's arms, nursing. His dad isn't too far away – right next to him and his mom, as a matter of fact, supporting him with one hand while the other wraps around Nessie's shoulder. Edward and I sit side by side in the chairs at the foot of the bed.

We've made phone calls and left messages in the way of the times:

 **Tony Masen – born March 13 at 4:42 pm, Pacific Standard Time. Seven pounds, two ounces, twenty-one inches.**

 **Oh my God, Congratulations! Give Nessie and Anthony all our love.**

 **Aww, Congratulations, Nanny Bella. All our love to you, and to the new, little family.**

 **Hah! You're a grandmother before I'm a grandfather! Who's laughing now, little lady? I'm just kidding, Bella. Congratulations, sweetheart. You and Ness are the best things that could've ever happened to the Masen men. She'll be a great mom, and you'll be the best frikking grandma ever. Give my buddy a pat on the back, and all the love in the world for the new little family from Al, Sammy, and me. We'll call you guys later when you've had a chance to settle in. We love you guys. :)**

 **Congratulations! Judith says I should wait a few hours before I call, but give our granddaughter a huge hug and kiss! Good size too! I bet that little man's got the Laurent, Viking genes! Also, tell Edward thanks for taking the time to show me how to use this phone.**

And then…I send Tanya a separate message.

 **Tanya, Anthony's a dad. He and Ness gave birth to Tony at 4:42 pm. He's healthy and beautiful, and he's already got Anthony's nose and mouth.**

 **Thank you, Bella. Give them all my love. I'm in the middle of this damn trial, but I'll call them as soon as I can. Thanks again.**

With a sigh, I set the phone down and look up at Anthony. He's gazing at his son in total rapture, but then his eyes shift to Nessie. He leans in and kisses her temple, the way Edward tends to kiss mine.

"Thank you, baby." I see his mouth move around the words, and I smile as I draw in a series of sighs and look away. In the next moment, I feel Edward's mouth on my temple.

"Thank you, Bella."

I chuckle softly. "Why in the world are you thanking _me_?"

"Because you made Ness."

"Then thank you as well," I murmur, "for making Anthony."

We hold one another's gazes silently.

"Alright, he's done with his first feeding," I hear Anthony whisper. Then, in a slightly higher voice:

"Are you guys ready to hold your grandson?"

"Oh my God," I breathe unevenly. "Yes. Yes."

Anthony gently lifts his son from Nessie's arms and makes his way to us. With the ease and care reserved for the most precious gifts in the world, he sets his son down in my arms…and Edward places his arms under my arms so that we're both holding our grandson. He's yet another tie that'll bind us together forever, and in this peculiarly wonderful family we've built, he's both Edward's and mine equally.

I've held the tears all day because I didn't want to break down in front of Nessie when she needed me to be strong. But the tears slide down my cheeks now, the happiest tears since the day Ness was born…since the day I realized Anthony was as mine as if he'd been born to me too.

"My God," I chuckle through my tears, "Ness, Grandpa Max is going to lose it. This boy is Masen through and through."

We all laugh as quietly as possible.

"So," Nessie says, and though I'm not looking at her, I can hear the quiet smile in her voice, "Anthony and I would like to officially introduce Tony Samuel…Edward Masen."

My breath hitches, and when I look up, I see Edward looking at both Ness and Anthony, startled and wide-eyed. "Edward? But I thought…your dad…"

"Pop," Ness grins, "you've been here for me for so much throughout these years. I'll never forget my dad, but I'd like to honor _both_ my father-figures _if_ that's okay with you guys."

Edward swallows thickly, and I turn my hand over under little Tony, so that I can squeeze my husband's hand.

"I'm…I'm…thank you, Nessie. Thank you, Anthony, and…I would bet anything that Sam is looking down right now and grinning so proudly at his newborn grandson."

"I think so too, Pop. I think he's grinning proudly at all of us."

He's part of Sam and part of Edward. He's part of me and part of Tanya. He's…named after his uncle, and he belongs to the two most important people in the world to _all_ of us – no matter what.

Silently, the four of us gaze down at Tony.

"Hey, Mom, what happened to your shoes?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Epilogue to follow tomorrow?**


	16. Epi - Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. Hitting the 'Complete' button on this one. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine as are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **Epilogue – Good Things Come to Those Who Wait**

 **Late June, Two Years Later:**

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you."

I sing the age-old song in a sultry voice, fully aware my talents do not bend toward the musical. However, I'm hoping the trajectory of the trail of kisses I'm leaving – from Edward's sleepy-soft mouth to his wonderfully-scratchy jawline to his still-firm chest and abs – is enough of an incentive for him to keep shut regarding my inability to hold a tune.

"Mmm…ohhh…"

I'd say my strategy is working.

"Happy Birthday, dear Edward…"

I pause at the trail of happiness just under his belly button, alternating darts of my tongue with back and forth brushstrokes of my lips.

"Bella, babe," he breathes, " _please_ stop teasing."

I chuckle huskily, enjoying the way his skin prickles with my breath. The morning sun streams in through our windows, highlighting the golden hairs around his bellybutton like soft little wisps of silk.

"I'm not teasing; I'm exploring." My index finger traces his bellybutton. "Haven't you heard that good things come to those who wait? Hey, did you know that-"

He sits up and slides his arms under my arms so swiftly that I shriek as he lifts me to my knees in front of him.

"Little tease," he grins.

"Hey, I was getting there. Man, turning fifty makes you impatient."

He throws back his head and chuckles heartily. Meanwhile, I kneel there and give silent thanks for him – for his health, for his vibrancy, and when he meets my eyes with green ones that are as young as when we first met, I give thanks for the fact that he held true to his search for real love…his search for me.

Edward leans in so that his mouth hovers just above mine as he reaches for the hem of my nightshirt – one of his old tee shirts – and slips it off.

"Bella," he murmurs, smiling softly, "I'm well aware that good things come to those who wait – great things, in fact."

He pulls me in, and for a few, wonderful moments, we kneel together on our bed and just…kiss with that quivery anxiousness usually reserved for two teenagers about to make love to one another for the first time. That is until he makes me shriek yet again when he throws himself back against the mattress and pulls me down with one arm. With the other, he pulls off his boxers. Then, he folds both arms behind his head and offers me a lascivious grin.

"You may now continue where you left off."

"Oh, pretty please, may I?" I clasp my hands together in mock supplication, openly gazing at him because, at fifty, he's still gaze-worthy.

Nonetheless, I resume where I left off, where I know he's aching by now; poor thing, and I enjoy it all almost as much as he does – his noises, the way his hands slide through and fist my hair as he guides me, the obscenities mixed in with the exclamations of reverent devotion. And when I sit up and slide over his body, taking him inside mine, he releases a long series of uneven sighs.

"I love you, Bella. Always."

I rock languidly over him, and I cover his body with mine, kissing him with the devotion of a worshiper.

"I love you so, so much, Edward Masen. Always. Happy Birthday, my love."

OOOOOOOOOO

It's my husband's fiftieth birthday, a monumental day to be sure, but we're no longer twelve-year-olds, for whom the world dedicates its rotation on that one, special day a year. We're parents, grandparents, business owners, and entrepreneurs. Mid-life has brought us new and exciting adventures and opportunities of which we could've never dreamed in our teen years, in our twenties, or even in our thirties. As Edward likes to say, _'A new phase of our lives begins every day,'_ and as my ex-sister-in-law but still best friend likes to say in response, ' _Wise, hot man, that husband of yours.'_

I say they're both correct.

So, as much as part of me would love to spend Edward's entire birthday celebrating in bed – because fifty or not, that man can still go like no one's business – we have a busy day ahead of us.

Edward, Jasper, and Anthony are visiting a couple of warehouses today as part of our prep for our latest venture: an organic skin care line made from wholly natural, biodegradable ingredients. We plan to add this line to our Masen Craft Company's various existing lines.

Yes, the company was a success; so much so in fact that we've had to expand into warehouses – something I initially resisted. However, we're still trying to keep things at a manageable scale. We've expanded into other states on the West Coast, with exploratory prep underway for the Mid-States and East Coast expansion. Anthony has also begun research into possible international expansion one day in the future.

We've had offers as well, from much larger companies wanting to buy us out while they can still afford to. We've told them to fuck off – in nice terms, obviously – because we love what we do too much to consider selling. Nevertheless, who knows what the future holds? As a wise, hot man I know often says, _'A new phase of our lives begins every day.'_

So, while Edward, Jasper, and Anthony take care of that business this morning, Alice, Nessie, the kids, and me drive into L.A. Alice and Nessie are attending one of those tedious meetings which come with running a company, while I attend a taping at the studio for Mina's and my culinary show – _Craft Wars_. Sammy in the meantime will be with her Grand _mah_ Sadie – that sweet yet smart-mouthed lady – for a few hours, and my precious, tiny, little man, Tony will be…spending a few hours with his biological, paternal grandmother.

So, here's the thing: You can't start a batch over. Once that batch is burned, it's burned. But…you can always begin again. It's my philosophy, the cornerstone of my belief system. So, how can I in all fairness begrudge Tanya a new batch, when we've all been given a second chance to start over in this life – in some cases, more than a second chance?

I was given a second, and then a third and magnificent chance at love. Edward was given a second chance. I've given my children and my children have given me second chances. Life gave Jasper and Alice a second chance to fully appreciate and embrace every day without taking too much for granted.

A bit over a year ago, Tanya was the losing attorney on a case which was not only the biggest of her career, but it was in defense of the most prominent client her firm had ever represented. Afterward, her father slash head partner, Robert Dennis, being the sympathetic soul that he is, asked his daughter to take "a break" from the firm.

Talk about a burned batch. Yet, sometimes, a burned batch leads to a new and better batch. Will that be the case with Tanya? Only time will tell. Right now, from what I see and hear, she's still bemoaning the unfairness of life.

So yes, sometimes the sight of her still makes me want to scream. She still says things and does things that drive me bat shit crazy. She still tries to buy her way, by way of fancy and expensive gifts. When I see Anthony's nostrils flare or Nessie's comforting hand rest on his arm after Tanya has pulled…well, a Tanya, I want to curse her the fuck out all over again.

But, here's what may prove to be her saving grace: Tanya adores little Tony Samuel Edward Masen. It's as if all the love, care, and affection she withheld from her son once she realized he still wouldn't get her the prize which had eluded her – that _final win_ , as she herself once called it – she's now willingly released on her grandson.

Granted, she sure as hell isn't what _I_ envision a grandmother should be, but in her own way, she tries; I _have_ to give her that or else I'm full of shit regarding my philosophy. Besides, Nessie and Anthony are raising Tony with good principles – the same ones with which they were raised. I _have_ to trust in those as well.

That's not to say that the possibility that Tanya and I will one day find ourselves more than bumping heads again – hurling nasty accusations and death threats at one another – should be ruled out. Who knows? Maybe next time I'll even manage to grab a fistful of that strawberry-blond hair – hair which, by the way, I caught a glimpse of the other day, _pre_ -salon appointment (Grays galore! Amen and Hallelujah!).

But for now…the gloves'll stay on.

OOOOOOOOOO

During what's scheduled as a ten-minute break between takes, I pull out my phone, while at the same time, warily eyeing the two contestants left on today's show. Neither one is what you'd call a gracious contestant, both currently in the middle of a Tanya-and-Bella-worthy catfight over who's cake is the best-looking, the best-tasting, and made out of the most wholesome ingredients – in other words, which one should take home the _Golden Swan_.

The Golden Swan – it's become the top culinary prize in these network bake-offs.

Originally, I'd agreed with Mina to a half-season of episodes. As soon as Swan Bellies became involved, ratings went through the roof. When my time as judge was up, the ratings dropped. I won't say they bottomed-out because that would be an exaggeration of the most arrogant kind, but it was enough for Mina to offer me a partnership on the L.A. based show. As I said, Masen Craft has been a success, so it was a win-win.

So, while Contestant Number One accuses Contestant Number Two of using, "shitty-ass, canned, and fucking year-old condensed milk," I text my husband.

 **I found the box in the closet. Thank you. I love them. But it's your birthday, not mine. :)**

 **Trust me, seeing you in those and nothing else tonight will be all about me. ;)**

 **LOL. You haven't given me a pair of RBs since the morning Tony was born. I thought you'd learned your lesson.**

 **What can I say? I'm hard-headed.**

He shoots that off to me, but hard on the heels of it, I see the three little circles indicating he's typing another message, so I move my thumbs all the quicker, trying to beat him to it.

 **Don't you dare say something about your OTHER hard head, Edward!**

 **Bella, you know me too well. ;)**

I chuckle as I steal a glance at the contestants. Contestant Number Two is now all up in Contestant Number One's face.

"Trust me; if I had a can of condensed milk hidden here somewhere, I'd be shoving it up your-"

 **Anyway, the only comments I've gotten on the RBs so far have been compliments. Hopefully, the curse is broken.**

 **I don't know that I would've called the last pair cursed, love. All turned out perfectly well.**

 **You're right, as usual.**

"And look at those shitty, lopsided layers! Isabella Masen will _never_ award The Golden Swan to a cake that's so fucking lopsided! She's a perfectionist!"

 **Gotta go soon, Edward, but how's your birthday going, my love?**

 **It's a day like any other – by which I mean great, so I sure as hell won't complain. By the way, I can't stop thinking of this morning's bj. :)**

 **LOL. You get bjs from me quite often. What was so special about this one?**

 **This was a birthday bj, Bella. By definition, birthday bjs are special. Look it up in the dictionary.**

A piece of cake lands on the dais, right between Mina and me. We eye one another for a moment.

 **You're so, so bad, Edward. Really gotta go now. Don't forget we're all meeting by the Pier this afternoon. Love you.**

 **I keep telling you: Got no one but yourself to blame. And of course, I won't forget**. **Love you too.**

By the time I look up again, the fighting contestants have been led away for some reminders on what it means to be gracious contestants.

Next to me, Mina chuckles and then sighs.

"Bella, I'm thinking we should reschedule the taping, maybe even-" Her eyes stray behind me. "Hey, your husband – and the rest of your family – is here."

I turn and follow the trajectory of her lusty gaze, and I see she's right. Edward stands behind the cameras with Tony in his arms. Nessie and Anthony stand next to him. When they see I've spotted them, they all grin broadly, and Edward leans into Tony, our grandson. He's the spitting image of his father and grandfather; though, his eyes and hair lean more toward his granddad's shades – his maternal granddad, Sam.

I chuckle quietly to myself as my ex-father-in-law's exuberant, triumphant cries on the day he met his great-grandson resound in my head.

' _It's those Laurent genes!'_

"Wave 'hi' to Nanny, Tony," I hear Edward instruct.

My little Tony's hand shoots up, and he waves, exuberantly bouncing in his grandfather's arms.

"Hi, Nanny! Hi! It's me, Nanny! It's Tony! Hi!"

Everyone around him laughs, the way grown-ups tend to whenever two to three words together come out of a toddler's mouth.

As for me, my heart contracts and expands so hard every time I'm in his presence. Tony Masen is a flesh-and-blood representation of _everyone_ I've ever loved, so how could he not affect me so? Maybe someday, I'll be able to look at him without feeling as if I might implode or explode with overwhelming joy and pride and…so much more. When I see Edward kiss Tony's temple, I get the feeling he feels the same.

"Hi, my little love," I chuckle, waving back with equal fervor. "Nanny'll be right there, okay?"

Tony claps as if I just told him the Easter bunny is on its way. "Yay, Nanny!"

Meanwhile, I muse quietly to myself. "I wonder what they're doing here? We were supposed to meet by the pier back home."

"Your husband's eyes sparkle when he looks at you," Mina sighs, breaking me out of my meditation.

"Today's his fiftieth birthday, and we have a celebration planned," I reply, ignoring the fact that she's checking out Edward so closely that she sees his sparkling eyes.

"Fifty?"

I hear the shocked surprise in her voice and sweep my eyes to her.

" _Daaamn_." She shoots me a slightly abashed smile, but then she chuckles. "I'm sorry, but I know you're not blind, Bella; your creative artistry is way too detailed for you to be blind to how fucking…" she steals another glance at Edward, " _hot_ your husband is – fifty-years-old or not."

Before I manage an opportunity to open my mouth and tell her to turn those late-twenties oglers elsewhere, please and thank you, she continues.

"But then again, what are you, Bella – thirty-seven, thirty-eight, right? Yet, I wouldn't put you at a day past thirty-five, so I can see why he's so into you."

"I'm actually forty-seven, Mina," I say with a smug smile.

"Holy shit. Really?" Her head reels back, black curls dancing around her beautiful, caramel face. "Damn, girl, you look good too."

"Thanks, Mina. And yes, he is good-looking, and I suppose, three decades ago when I first met him, his looks were the first thing that attracted me to him. But he's become so much more than good looks."

She's reflective for a few moments. "Then you're one of the few, truly lucky ones out there."

"Yeah," I breathe. "Yeah, I totally am."

"You know what? Go home, Bella, and we'll figure out this clusterfuck tomorrow. Don't keep that hot-ass husband…and the rest of that sweet family of yours, waiting." She grins broadly.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," I grin in return.

When Edward sees me approaching, he sets Tony down, and my grandson takes off at a sprint on his short, little legs.

"Nanny!" he yells the entire way. Then, he's in my arms, and I crush him oh so carefully to me before he squirms and pulls away, making me chuckle. His stubbly little hands cradle my face.

"Nanny, it's Pop-pop's boatday!"

I chuckle heartily and kiss his forehead. "It _is_ Pop-pop's birthday."

Edward reaches us and encircles us both in his arms. I whisper furtively in his ear.

"I sure hope you weren't texting me about bjs with Tony in your arms."

He snickers quietly. "Ness was holding him."

I pull back and shoot him a smirk, but then a pleased smile replaces it. "What are you guys doing here? I thought we were all meeting at the pier?"

"We finished early," Anthony says, "so we figured we'd come pick you guys up. Uncle Jasper met up with Aunt Alice and Sammy, and the three decided to spend some time with Sadie, so…it's just the five of us."

The five of us has become a lovely number.

"Sammy went bye-bye." Tony frowns. He absolutely adores his four-year-old cousin.

"Aww, baby; you'll see her tonight," I promise.

"For Pop-pop's boatday?"

"Yes, sweetheart. For Pop-pop's birthday."

Anthony chuckles guiltily and clears his throat. "So, Mom, Ness and I wanted to take you and Pop out for lunch, here in L.A."

"But…aren't we taking Dad out to dinner at the pier?" I shoot Anthony a look. We've got plans.

"We can do both, can't we?" Ness says with a funny grin.

Anthony slips an arm around his dad's shoulder and the other arm around my shoulder.

"We'd _really_ like to take you guys out to lunch," he says.

I eye him speculatively. " _O_ -kay."

OOOOOOOOOO

Sometimes, good things also come to those who don't wait _too_ long.

A bit over a couple of hours later, we're in Edward's car on our way back to Newport Beach, tummies full, and hearts soaring, and in the middle of conversation related to the topic at hand.

"It's unfair," Edward says.

"It really is," Anthony agrees. "Men should be able to give birth too."

I turn around and look at Ness, who's seated directly behind me, with Tony at her side in his car seat, and Anthony behind Edward. She rolls her eyes, and I laugh before turning back around.

"Ness and I think you're both full of crap. Neither one of you would ever want to give birth."

Anthony bursts out laughing. "You're totally right, Mom. We wouldn't."

My phone vibrates, and when I open the text from Alice, she's sent me a picture of an L.A. fire company truck. The caption reads _, 'Looksy what I found in L.A.. ;) '_

I snicker and set the picture away for later. "Alice and her firemen fetish."

" _Alice_ and her firemen fetish, huh?" Edward grins.

He reaches across the console and weaves his fingers through mine. All the while, his eyes remain on the road because we've got the most precious cargo in the world in the back seat – all three…soon to be four of them. We also have one of those signs on our bumper: _Precious Cargo_. Tony has a car seat dedicated to this car and to mine because he's with us pretty often.

"I suppose we'll have to pull out the infant car seat again," I say, smiling happily at the windshield.

"No, no, no," Edward chuckles. "Don't try to change the subject."

"Hah!" I snort. "Blame your grandson's eagerness to arrive two weeks early. He left Alice and me no choice!"

Edward shakes his head, his lips twitching. "One of these days, I might have to rent one of those firemen costumes," he teases.

I angle myself to face him. "Oh my God, please do – hat and all. And make sure it has the suspenders – the suspenders are extremely important. But don't wear a shirt under the suspenders."

"Anything else, Mrs. Masen?" He keeps his eyes on the traffic, but I can tell he's suppressing his laughter.

"Yes. Don't forget the hose."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he says under his breath. "I'll have my own, built-in hose with me, ready to go."

"Uh, you guys know we can hear you back here," Anthony says.

"Oh my God; cover that baby's ears!" I shriek.

"Or maybe just stop talking about Pop's hose?" Nessie suggests.

"Pop-pop got big hose for boatday!" Tony yells, stretching his tiny arms out wide.

I drop my head and cover my face while Anthony and Ness's roaring laughter fills the car.

OOOOOOOOOO

"May I confess something kind of crazy?"

"Always," Edward grins.

"Does that mean I can always confess myself to you or does it mean I'm always pulling something crazy?"

Edward chuckles.

We're strolling down the pier arm in arm with Ness and Anthony ahead of us, chasing after Tony. The sun is setting, and the businesses and storefronts are just beginning to turn on their lights.

"It means I…"

When Anthony takes Tony's little hand and helps him run up the plank leading onto one of the boats lining the harbor, Edward frowns.

"What's he doing?" he murmurs, pursing his lips in disapproval. "He can't just let Tony wander onto someone's boat like that." His frown deepens when both Anthony and Nessie board the boat.

Edward sucks his teeth. "These kids. You can't just board someone's boat like that." He takes off at a brisk pace, respectfully remaining on the other side of the small gangway.

"Anthony?" he calls sternly.

As I stand there, I picture Edward the way he would've looked two decades earlier: his hair still all a dark shade of copper, his face still too young to be lined by either good times or bad ones, and standing as tall and erect as he still does – while using that same stern tone. I chuckle to myself.

"Anthony and Vanessa, what's going on? Why are you both-"

By this point, I've managed to teeter-totter my way to Edward on my stilettoes – a feat which feels more complex than it has in the past. I may actually have to give the RBs a rest for a while – darn Sadie.

I pull on Edward's arm, and when he sweeps his eyes to me, and I see all the innocent bewilderment reflected in them, I want to break out into laughter or happy tears – but it won't be the tears because we all know what happens when I let loose those waterworks.

He rakes a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "Bella, they can't just…"

"You didn't let me finish my confession," I grin.

"But…" his eyes stray back to the boat, where Ness and Anthony have now reappeared. They hold Tony between them, one of his tiny hands in each of theirs. All three grin at their father and grandfather.

Edward looks at me again. It takes a handful of these back and forth sweeps of his eyes before they widen.

"Holy hell," he breathes. And now I do laugh. " _No_ , Bella," he says, shaking his head, his tone one of those that really mean, " _Yeah_ , Bella."

"Happy Boatday for Pop-pop!" Tony calls out.

"Happy Boat…Bella?" Edward says.

"Now, there are ground-rules, Edward," I say in the same stern tone he used on the kids a couple of minutes earlier. "Firstly, we own this with Jasper and Alice, and with Anthony and Nessie."

"Okay," he smiles, his voice quivering with excitement as he takes a step toward me. It won't hit me until hours later how his first instinct is to step toward _me,_ not toward his brand new boat.

I raise a palm between us, halting him.

"Wait! There's more. Don't think this means we're going to turn into one of those pretentious, semi-retired, yacht-owning, old-fart couples who wear matching sailor shirts and neckties while arguing in phony, British accents."

"I've heard that somewhere before," he chuckles, taking another step forward, but my raised palm bounces between us.

" _And_ if the weather starts getting rough, and the ship gets tossed, and we end up on an uncharted desert isle, you'd better not start building a bunch of crap out of coconuts."

"I won't," he chuckles heartily. "May I hug and kiss the hell out of you now?"

I keep my palm up. "And I refuse to be First Mate, Edward. I'll be your co-Captain but not your first mate. And it's not one of those forty-five million dollar yachts, but we researched and researched and-"

At this point, Edward closes all distance between us, cutting me off by crushing his mouth to mine and enveloping me in his arms.

"Bella…" he breathes against my mouth, chuckling, "my God, Bella. I don't deserve this."

"Hey, if I deserve these shoes, then you deserve this-"

"I don't mean the boat." He pulls back and holds my gaze through emerald eyes I've loved for three decades now. Emerald eyes I'll always love.

"I mean _you_ , Bella." He cradles my cheek in one hand. "What did I ever do to deserve _you_?"

No; none of us get do-overs in life, but we get to begin again.

"You learned from the mistakes of our youth, and you held on to our love. You raised our son into a wonderful man. You were ready to begin again when we met again, yet you never asked me to let go of Sam's memory. When you found out about the first Anthony, you hurt as much as I did. You loved my daughter as unconditionally as I do. All of it…" I say, my voice breaking, "all of it has made it possible for us to be grandparents to a little boy who embodies everyone we've ever loved, and to begin a new phase of our lives together, every day. So…I'd say you deserve it," I shrug.

He laughs, his dark eyes glassy as he nudges my hair behind my ear. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "Okay."

"Boy, you accepted that real easy."

"I've never been as averse to birthday gifts as have you."

I smirk at him. "So…you want to check out the boat?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, turning us around and helping me up the ramp. "But would you mind calling it a small yacht instead of a boat?"

"Fine. Whatever."

"And if it's not too much trouble, would you mind taking off those shoes before you board? I don't want you damaging the wood floors with those heels."

I turn and glare at him. "You mean the heels you just gave me?"

He nods. With a sigh, I remove the now offensive stilettoes.

"And regarding the matching sailor shirts, maybe if they're tasteful-"

"Edward, I swear to God, I _will_ return this here boat before you can say 'All Aboard'."

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, pulling me into his arms. "Hey. I love you - always."

"Love you too, Edward – always."

 **THE END…**

 **Wait!**

 **Until Five Years Later…**

 **Post-Epilogue: Christmas**

"Hey, Tony? Jax? What's going on up there? Mom and Nanny are waiting for those decorations!"

No answer.

I look at Ara, my two-year-old granddaughter, safely ensconced in my arms as usual. She blinks those big, brown eyes at me, and I melt, also as per usual because Ara – short for Arabella – is the spitting image of her grandmother – her maternal yet somehow also paternal grandmother; my wife, Bella.

"What do you say, Ara? Should we go up there and see what your brothers are up to?"

She blinks and nods, pointing her little finger up the staircase.

We take the steps two at a time, and by the time I reach the top one, I'm cursing myself silently.

"Tell you, what? Pop-pop needs to stop doing that. But don't tell Nanny," I whisper to Ara.

She giggles.

We round the hallway into Bella's office, and when I push the door open, I find both my grandson's – Tony, who's seven now and looks more and more like Anthony and me every day; and Jax, who's five-years-old and the spitting image of his maternal granddad – both seated on the floor, pouring through Bella's picture albums. They've got a medley of loose pictures all around their perimeter.

"Boys in twouble," Ara giggles.

"Oh yeah," I agree. "What are you two up to? Nanny and Mom sent you guys up here hours ago for the extra box of tree decorations."

Jax looks up first, green eyes sparkling. Strange how nature works. Tony's features resemble the Masen line, but he's got Laurent hair and eyes. Jaxon, on the other hand, has Laurent features but Masen eyes and hair.

In my head, I hear the always-exuberant voice of my wife's ex-father-in-law, now in the great beyond with his beloved son:

' _It's those Viking genes!'_

I chuckle to myself.

Now, both boys, however, are tall and well-built, while Ara is petite and delicate, and all Bella, as I said; so when Ara gets going, she gets going.

"Pop!" Jax says excitedly. "Look at all this cool stuff we found!"

Tony looks up with matching exhuberance. "There are these weird-feeling pieces of paper of Mom when she was little, and of Nanny with Grandpop Sam! Like the images Nan keeps on her pod!"

I chuckle softly. "Yep. It's called picture paper, and it's how we printed out pictures before."

"It's so stiff and shiny," Tony says, turning one around in his hand in wonder.

"It is. Now, come on. You can bring some of those down with you, but pick up the rest and put them away how you found them. Nanny'll kick your little butts if she sees this mess."

"Alright, Pop."

"Sure, Pop."

They make a messy attempt at clean-up, and I know Bella's going to have a ball cleaning this up later. Once both boys have sprinted past me, I chuckle and make my way further into the room, checking to see they didn't leave anything on the floor. As I'm about to turn around and walk out, something under the coffee table catches my eye.

I bend down, Ara still in my arms, and mortifyingly making one of those old man groans as I go.

"Okay, Pop-pop?" Ara asks, her tiny palm on my cheek.

"Pop-pop might have to listen to Nanny and visit a chiropractor soon."

"Okay."

I'm chuckling as I pull the forgotten album out from under the coffee table.

PARIS

It's an album from Bella's time living in Paris. I flip through it gingerly, smiling at the pictures of my wife in college with Alice…of her with Sam. It's a strange feeling that course through me – not jealousy, no. More like wistfulness.

"That's your grandpop Sam," I tell Ara.

"Grandpop Sam," she repeats.

"Yeah."

"Hey, Dad!" Anthony calls from downstairs. "Mom really wants those decorations _now_! She's threatening your boat if you don't come down soon!" I hear my son's roaring laughter.

"Coming!"

I chuckle again, and with a sigh, I start to straighten, already groaning at the expectation of an ache in my back. When something falls out of the album – an eight by ten piece of paper which floats to my feet – I reach for it all the while grateful I haven't stood just yet. Then…all my breath leaves me.

"Edward, babe, what's taking…what do you have there?"

Despite her impatience, Bella's voice holds more than a hint of a smile in it. It's the holidays. We've got all our family here – our kids, grandkids, Alice and Jasper and Sammy. Our professional lives are doing well too, yes, but…it's _this_ … _this_ is what brings her joy. And when she's full of joy, I'm overjoyed. We found one another at a time in our lives when we both thought the best years were behind us. Man, were we ever mistaken.

I smile softly, my eyes stinging as I gaze down at the grainy, black and white image now almost four decades old. It's somewhat faded by time, by older technology, but the basics…the basics are there.

Life works in mysterious ways, indeed.

Without looking away from the ultrasound image, I reach a hand back for her, sighing when I feel her fingers weave through mine.

"Bella, love, come and take a look at what the kids found."

AND NOW…THE END.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this. What did I originally say? Ten chapters. Pfft. Don't listen to me when I give chapter estimates. I'm usually full of shit. ;)**

 **What's next? Finishing Uprising. I haven't abandoned it, but RL got crazy for a bit. I'll get back to it, and I'll give you all a heads up when I do. :)**

 **So, I just wanted to add that the song which kept going through my head as I wrote this little romp back into these guys' lives was:**

 _ **100 Years, by Five for Fighting.**_

 **It's pretty amazing, and very fitting, I think.**

" **See" you all soon!**

 **Patty**


End file.
